A New Life
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: Donovan finds that sometimes even a new life brings trials and tribulations. [Sequel to “Another Life”]
1. Late Nights

**TITLE****:  "A New Life"**

**AUTHOR****:  Ardeth Saunders [a.k.a., Cruecial411]**

**RATING****:  R [strong language, violence, and sexual situations]**

**SUMMARY****:  Donovan finds that sometimes even a new life brings trials and tribulations.  [Sequel to "Another Life"]**

**GENRE****:  Drama/Angst**

**DISCLAIMER****:  _UC:  Undercover_ and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, and a dozen others.  NO infringement intended.  All other original characters belong solely to the vivid [and often sick and twisted] imagination of the author.**

***  *  ***

**LATE NIGHTS**

Mid-December, 2003 

"Selena," a voice whispered, low and sexy, the words drifting into her ear.  "Selena, wake up for a minute.  There's something I have to tell you and it won't wait until morning."

She groaned.  Please oh please.  She had no desire to pull herself away from her dream or her warm bed.  Uh uh, no way, no how.  See ya baby.  A persistently large hand took hold of her shoulder and shook it lightly.  The warm heat of a male body against her and the warmer scent of his cologne suddenly embraced her.  She moved closer to that source of comfort.  It had been sharing her bed the better part of the month of December, and would continue to do so until New Years Eve.  It was cold outside, snowing like hell, but she wouldn't budge, no matter how much he poked and prodded.  In fact, he could probably lick her damn ear and she wouldn't move a muscle.  She continued to luxuriate in the warmth and settled her body even more firmly into the mattress.  Sooner or later, he would give up.  _Funny, Jane, is that what you think?  Has he ever given up yet?  Hmm.  Perhaps her subconscious had a point there.  The moment Selena Jane Larkin returned to D.C. straight from Chicago, she went directly home, unpacked, and was ready to hit the sack when her phone rang.  She was surprised to hear it like that, so surprised that she nearly pissed her pants.  She reached over and snagged the phone, answering on the third or fourth ring.  The moment she said 'hello,' a silky voice came over the line and asked a most unexpected question, 'can I see you?'  _Can you see me?  Duh.  _It took approximately three seconds to tell him that she would, indeed, see him and do so whenever he wanted.  Three days later, thrilled to the bone, she met Frank Donovan at the airport.  They had gone to her place and made love for a good three or four hours.  After the passion subsided [for a few moments while Donovan called up his reserves], he thanked her for what she had done for him.  She had tried to blow it off as her 'duty' or whatever, but it was a big deal to him, it had basically driven him to want to spend more time with her.  He had, in fact, requested several weeks' leave [which had been reserved anyway for the honeymoon that didn't happen].  Of course, she wasn't inclined to complain about that.  They'd spent…oh…four days or so in a constant unstoppable lovefest, hardly getting out of bed five minutes before they were back in again.  When the lust had completed its cycle, they had __really begun getting to know each other, finding compatibility and incompatibility, basically probing into each other's souls.  It was a scary process, especially for Larkin, because apparently, Donovan was pretty damn serious about this.  _Of course he is, you dummy.  Why would he have come all this way just to sleep with you?  __

"Selena," he said again, this time his lips making contact with her ear.  "Give me five minutes, if you would."

She groaned.  "Okay, you bastard," she said, not unkindly.  "What is it?"

"The bus transporting Grant to prison crashed.  There were no survivors."

At that point, Larkin came awake totally.  She gazed into Donovan's face as if she had been dreaming everything.  "What?  She's dead?  She died in the accident?"  He nodded without saying anything.  For a moment, she touched his cheek to make sure she wasn't dreaming.  Okay.  Donovan was real.  Was she?  She touched her face while Donovan looked on [perhaps thinking she had gone off the deep end].  She was real.  "I won't believe it until I see proof."

"We'll get that tomorrow," he said.  He, like she, wanted to know.

Neither Larkin nor Donovan slept well that night.  While they were trying to bore each other to sleep, Larkin finally asked how he had come upon his information.  Donovan, the consummate worker, had brought his phone along.  Cody had heard about it on the wire and thought it was information Donovan wanted to hear.  When Donovan had first heard the words, he felt fifteen different ways at once.  Of course, the most prevalent was relief.  If the bitch were dead, she would never cause him further problems for the rest of his life.  There was little left in his life that she could destroy.  She couldn't touch Larkin, because she knew everything already.  She knew it and didn't give a shit.  The team, for the most part, was still clueless, but they hadn't asked when Larkin had called him Martel just a little while ago.  Likely as not, the team wouldn't give a shit, either.  However, for the time being, he kept his past hidden, only shared with others who knew of it [including Larkin].  How many times in so many days had he thanked her for deleting the shit?  How would he ever repay her?  There actually wasn't a way _to _repay what she had done.  Then again, she hadn't exactly asked for it.  She wasn't the type and he appreciated the hell out of that.  Larkin was also the only person he knew who wouldn't use her knowledge to blackmail him for something in the future.  All others would have [with the exception of the team].  She had basically set out to protect him and he was blown away by that gesture.  No one else in her position would have, especially after what had transpired between them before he broke off his engagement.  He would forever feel like a shit for what he had done to her.  He couldn't imagine what motivated her to forgive him and allow him back in her life.  For the first time in years, he felt free; felt as if he would finally have the life denied him so many years ago.  Of course, he didn't want to jump the gun just yet.  Although there had been news of a crash, he wouldn't be satisfied until he saw the accident site, examined it, and then spoke to the coroner to get an accurate account of bodies.  Until then, he was left brooding in bed, wondering, hoping, and praying that she was gone.  It was an awful thought, but one he couldn't drive out of his mind.  When it came to Kira Grant, he simply didn't give a fuck.  There was no way the bitch had the right to share a planet with everyone else.

Donovan felt a slight shift beside him as Larkin turned onto her back.  A moment later, he heard her sigh.  He smiled a little; she was still awake.  For a moment, he thought she had gone to sleep.  Unlike him, it didn't usually take long for her to drift away, but she was as troubled as he.  Slowly, he turned onto his side to face her.  When she realized that he too, was awake, she turned slightly to face him.  His eyes were gazing into hers so very intensely.  She loved his eyes most of all.  They had more character in them than some people had in their entire bodies.  Even in the dark, they shimmered with a life seemingly all their own.  She had no idea what motivated his desire to come to her as he did.  She knew what he said and understood how touched he was, but he didn't deserve such a bad rap.  Would she have done it for just anyone?  She had to be very honest with herself.  No way.  It wasn't due to the fact that they'd had a 'thing.'  The most hideous beast ever born had ruined his life; she had the technology and knowledge to fix it.  _God.  I wish he wouldn't look at me like that.  _She noticed that he could look at her for an hour at a stretch.  At first, she had felt very uncomfortable under that steady gaze, but now she enjoyed the shit out of it.  She reached out to him and ran her thumb along his bottom lip.  She moved her hand up and over to his cheek.  She found herself thinking that it wasn't fair for a man to have such soft skin without trying, even through the stubble covering his cheeks.  After a long moment, she leaned toward him and gave him a very gentle kiss on the lips.  Both of them were thinking:  _is this a good night type thing or something else?_  They hadn't been together long enough to read every cue they gave off.  However, both of them received their answer as soon as the kiss deepened.  Larkin felt her body drifting down to the bed as Donovan's leaned over hers.  Her arms went around his neck and her hands went into his hair.  She loved running her fingers through the thick silkiness.  Once the kiss was broken, he gazed down into her eyes and ran his hand along her face.  God, she was beautiful.    

Nonchalantly, he threw the covers off their bodies.  He broke the gaze as his lips and tongue made a sensuous trail down her throat.  His large hand cupped her breast and she felt her nipple hardening beneath it.  The moment his lips began to move lower, he slipped his hand aside and drew the nipple between his lips, not quite suckling it, but grazing it with his teeth and teasing it with his tongue.  When he didn't repeat the same process on her other nipple, she let out a long sigh of disappointment that was quickly buried in another breathless kiss.  During the kiss, his hand slid down the length of her body.  Before long, he settled it between her legs.  _He certainly doesn't hesitate to go for the gusto_.  His hand caressed her slowly, tenderly, as if he were afraid he'd cause her harm.  She wanted to remove his hand, but couldn't touch him.  He had the same effect on her that he had had when he first made love to her.  She moaned softly within their heated kiss as he slipped his middle finger inside her, not necessarily entering her, but ruthlessly manipulating the tiny bud that had begun to swell the instant he kissed her.  His tongue inside her mouth matched each flick of his finger.  She had just begun to feel the tingling sensation she experienced just before her climax.  It was coming and coming soon.  Apparently, he sensed it as well.  Just as she had been on the verge, he completely withdrew his finger and ended the kiss.  She was about to ask him what the hell he was doing, but his mouth and tongue began making another trail down her body.  She couldn't argue with that, couldn't complain.  Oh hell no.  As soon as he reached her lower abdomen, he whispered something against her flesh.  She couldn't quite make out the words, but it sounded like 'let me in.'  At first, she had no clue what he was talking about, but then it hit her.  _Duh, Jane!_  She parted her thighs and he slid down between them.  He ran his tongue along the inside of each thigh, placing a nibbling bite here and there.  She moaned again and heard a word leaving her mouth, 'please.'  She repeated the plea again when she felt his warm breath just inches above her.  Without half a pause, he ran his tongue along the outside of her.  By this time, she had closed her eyes tightly and was consistently licking her lips and chewing on them.  Uh God.  He was such a dirty rotten bastard for doing this to her.  Yet, it felt pretty damn good.  Another first for her, she had no idea how to react or what to do.  His fluttering tongue was killing her ever so passionately.  It didn't fail to escape her that he had yet to touch the moist heat inside.

He withdrew for a moment and her tensely wound up body began to relax a little.  Uh God.  Would he finally come inside her now?  Just when she thought he was finished, she felt two of his fingers moving to open her.  She wanted to protest, had even opened her mouth to do it.  _Oh, no no, please don't…don't…doooooon't.  _However, the words never left her, and when his tongue touched her inside, her legs immediately went around him while her hands plunged into his hair.  His tongue made slow, swirling little strokes, and she thought she might die if he didn't stop.  His lips encircled the most sensitive part of her sex, drawing it between his lips, and suckling it none too gently.  She was certain her nails digging into his scalp weren't doing anything for him, but oh God, he was doing a multitude of shit for her.  He wouldn't stop until she came and at that point, it wasn't that far away.  Her body had begun to quiver and her back arched up off the bed almost severely.  All the while, he continued mercilessly, not letting up for one second.  Her climax was sudden, abrupt, and overwhelming.  She cried out loud and high with the force of it.  It struck her again and again, as he wouldn't stop.  Oh Jesus, he _could not_ keep this up all night.  

After he'd left her a quivering, panting mess, he withdrew slowly and she allowed her hands to slip out of his hair.  She wondered how many injuries she'd given him.  He placed a scattering of moist kisses along her lower abdomen as his body moved back up the length of hers.  Eventually, his lips took hers again and he kissed her deeply.  She groaned a little when she felt his hardness against her.  Before she had the opportunity to move, he broke the kiss and came up to his knees.  She made moves to meet him, but he took hold of each side of her waist and shook his head firmly.  It was obvious who wanted to be in control tonight.  He had barely laid his hand on her thigh before she parted them for him again.  Leaning over her, he took hold of one leg, intending to draw it around him.  Instead, she threw as much of it as she could over his shoulder.  Apparently, she didn't only fold her body like a pretzel when just sitting down.  He slipped into her slowly and she released a small cry.  Tonight, he leaned his body on his hands and she saw that he had closed his eyes the moment he began moving with her.  Her hands grasped his arms and she cried out 'uh uh uh' with each driving thrust.  His own groans and growls left him, mingling with hers, and she allowed an incoherent curse to leave her mouth as she felt yet another mind bending release.  His body began to get slick with sweat as he fought back his own release.  His face was drawn into an impassioned grimace that could have been pained or euphoric.  It was hard to tell.  The moment he opened his mouth and drew in a hissed breath, she knew it would not be long.  Her hands moved to slip beneath his arms and her nails dug into the soft flesh she found there as she felt yet another trembling release.  She couldn't stand much more.  Her eyes closed tightly and her head moved from side to side as she kept denying and fighting.  He couldn't do this to her, couldn't keep sending her over again and again.  It wasn't supposed to feel like this.  It wasn't supposed to be like this.  She dug her nails into him a second time when her body betrayed her again.  This time, he opened his mouth and called out a growling string of words in a language alien to her:  _Ich kann nicht glauben, was Sie zu mir gemacht haben._  [I can't believe what you've done to me.]  A moment later, his body stilled, and a groan escaped him as he met his sweet release.  His head tilted back ever so slightly.  She continued to run her hands up and down his sides as his body worked through his release.  She felt many, many strong bursts of fluid exiting him and entering her.  Without losing his connection with her body, he helped ease her leg off his shoulder.  He didn't want to put his full weight on her, but damn, she had worn him out.  After a few moments, he withdrew from her and lay on his side.  She lay against him, her lips delicately trailing over his chest.

"What language was that," she asked, her face searching his in the dark.

"It's German."

"German," she asked, "Where did you learn that?"

He smiled a little.  "My great-great grandmother was German and I learned the language from her.  I slip into it during very intense moments."

"What you said…what does it mean?"

"Basically, I was musing aloud, saying that I can't believe what you've done to me," he said.

Intrigued now, she looked up at him.  "What have I done," she asked, smiling a little.

"You've touched almost every facet of my life and made me truly _feel_ again," he told her.  "Selena, how am I ever going to repay you for what you've done for me?"

She kissed his lips ever so gently.  "Let's see…perhaps you could assault me repeatedly with that gigantic tool of yours and give me ten thousand orgasms?"

He returned her kiss, both of them chuckling within it.  "I think that's been covered already, don't you?"

"Hmm, maybe.  Think you can sleep now, Hot Stuff?"

He laughed.  "Yes.  I'm completely exhausted."

*  *  *

The next morning, both Larkin and Donovan made their way to the scene of the accident.  Donovan had gotten directions from Cody just moments ago.  According to Cody, the police had yet to clear the scene, so all of the wreckage should still be there, relatively untouched.  Larkin drove them out and they immediately noticed a crew of county and city cops milling about, taking photos, etc.  The two of them left the car and walked toward the group of police officers.  

"Excuse me, but this is a closed crime scene," an officer said as she approached the couple.

Larkin, not the most chipper of people right at that moment had a smart remark, "Goody for it," she said sarcastically.  She whipped out her identification.  "FBI."  She nudged Donovan with her elbow.  "Show her your ID, Slim."

_What the hell is she doing?  First it was babe and now it's slim.  _She had taken a superior tone to the cops and he knew from experience that they hated it.  Sighing, he dug out his ID [_lucky I brought it_] and flipped it toward the female officer.  The PO sighed in aggravation and allowed the two agents through [_superior assholes…hate those fuckers_].  At the edge of a steep ravine, both Larkin and Donovan saw where some type of vehicle had burst through a guardrail, digging grooves into the side of the ditch, and then it had nose-dived into the bottom of the ravine.  The bus was a burned out hulk.  The sickening smell of smoke mixed with another smell assaulted Larkin's nostrils.  Nausea attacked her and she had to back away a little.  Someone had definitely burned to death down there.  She moved away quickly.  If she didn't, her insides would be outside in a big way.  Donovan followed her back up to the top of the ravine.  She approached one of the cops.

"How many people were in the bus when it wrecked?  How many bodies did you remove," Larkin asked.

"Four; the driver and three female inmates.  You can probably get a list of the inmates from the coroner."

Without waiting a millisecond, Larkin took off for her car.  If Donovan's legs weren't relatively long, she would have left him behind.  They climbed into the car and she directed it back toward the city.  "There was definitely a wreck down there," she said, "and deaths.  Jesus."

"And the number of inmates matches what we know.  Once we confirm the number of bodies, then we'll have the answers we seek."

She nodded.  "God, I hope so."

The coroner's officer was a bit more receptive to the two agents and didn't give them much fuss or muss.  He offered to give them a count of the bodies, but it wasn't good enough for Donovan.  He wanted to go himself.  There was no way in hell Larkin wanted to do that.  She stood back and waited.  It was true that she was an FBI agent, but her division didn't have to come in contact with bodies that damn often.  Her side was the 'softer' side.  The smell of seared flesh had already tainted her senses and it was an odor she didn't want to encounter again.  When Donovan returned, he nodded solemnly.  She immediately knew what it meant.  The right number of bodies was there.  Hallelujah.

*  *  *

New Years Eve, 2003 

Donovan thought he must have been an idiot to book a flight back to Chicago on New Years Eve.  The damn airport was almost to capacity.  It had taken nearly four hours to check in.  After that gory process, he and Larkin had walked over to his terminal to await the flight.  He hated goodbyes; he had never been good at them.  He gazed down at Larkin, and she reached over and grasped his hand tightly.  Apparently, she wasn't good at goodbyes, either.  

"Two weeks," he asked.

She nodded.  "Two weeks.  I finally begged them into letting me have vacation time," she said with a smile.  _God.  What are we doing?  A long distance relationship?  _

He squeezed her hand tightly.  "I'm glad the begging worked," he told her.  "So, what I'd like to do now is give you one last kiss and then send you away."

"All right."  He didn't want to walk away from her and she didn't want to watch him.  "Two weeks," she added, basically reminding herself as well as him.

"Until then."  He leaned down and kissed her deeply.  When the kiss was broken, he touched her cheek.  "Go, Selena," he whispered down to her.

Larkin released his hand.  "I'm going."  

She turned and moved away from him.  With a smile, he watched her until she was out of sight.  God.  He had just experienced the best three weeks in his life since Taryn died, and now it was over.  Two weeks seemed too damn long.  _Slow down, Donovan.  Slow down._

**____________________**

**To be continued…**   


	2. On Solid Ground

ON SOLID GROUND

Fire and smoke.  It was all around, filling everyone's nostrils.  Along with that was incredible heat and burning.  There were screams coming from every corner of the stuffy environment.  A set of reddened eyes noticed a broken window.  If she could just make it over there, she could get out.  The flames were getting closer and closer to her.  The other people on the bus were fully engulfed.  Thank God she had been placed toward the middle of the bus with the other female inmate.  The fire hadn't gotten to her; she had died on impact, a broken neck from the look of it.  As she crawled toward the broken window, she realized that she was covered in blood and her face hurt.  If she weren't so focused on escaping, she would touch it to find out what was wrong.  The smoke was so thick and horrible, and the heat was catching up quickly.  There were no screams.  The other people had been consumed.  She refused to give in.  She was stronger than them, stronger than everybody.  If anyone could survive this, it was she.  Stubbornly, she pushed forward and reached the window.  The flames had begun to lick the bottom of her foot.  Fuck this.  She was getting out.  She insisted.  There were two people whose lives still needed to be ruined.  For years, she had been completely too nice.  But now, that niceness had gone to hell.  She dove for the window and stuffed her body into the space.  Thank God she'd lost weight during her incarceration.  She cried out in pain as the flames engulfed her left foot.  Goddamn it.  Something was broken, the harsh grating pain was biting at her, nearly killing her.  When she finally made it out of the inferno, she dragged her body forward.  She had progressed maybe a foot before stopping.  The pain in her burnt foot and whatever the hell was broken was tremendous.  If she didn't rest for a minute, she couldn't continue.  She tried to bury her face into the damp grass and when she did, a weak scream left her.  It was her face; her face was broken and bleeding.  Something loose and bloody was flopping against her shattered cheek and she screamed even louder when she realized it was her ear.  Her ear had nearly been sliced right off her head.  Goddamn Chase Martel.  Goddamn Selena Larkin.  She had begun the ruination of one man and now it had grown to include his lover.  Kira Grant knew she couldn't hang around here very long.  The authorities would be along as soon as the accident was reported.  She needed time to gather a little strength.  If she didn't, she wouldn't make it.  She held tightly onto life, fighting death for all she was worth.  Dying would only serve Martel and his putrid little asshole girlfriend.

Boyce and Lorena Dotson were sitting before the television watching a grimy black and white western.  Well, actually, Mr. Dotson was watching the western.  Mrs. Dotson had her mind occupied by a book.  Her husband had his hobbies to occupy his mind and she had hers.  Of course, he complained steadily about the 'trashy' books she read.  If she didn't read this 'trash,' where would her romance come from?  She surely wouldn't get it from Mr. Dotson.  Hell, he hadn't had the ability to get it up in about three years.  Oh well.  Even if he did manage to get happy, she wasn't certain she'd want it anymore anyway.  That stuff was way back in their past.  Mrs. Dotson groaned a little as a leg cramp seized her.  _It's gonna snow tonight, you betcha_.  She was glad she was inside a warm house away from the elements.  It had taken extreme begging on her part to convince her skinflint husband to have a real heating system installed.  For years, he insisted on burning wood.  In fact, she had raised a brood of children that way.  Mr. Dotson thought it would build character, but what it ended up building in the long run was resentment.  The kids hardly ever came by anymore.  What else could she do?  She couldn't make them come over, couldn't force them to bring the grandkids by.  She turned a page in her saucy novel and grinned a little when she reached the kinky parts.  She loved those best of all.  A soft thumping noise sounded off, but Mrs. Dotson didn't pay it much attention.  They had four blue tick hounds and one of them had probably bounded up on the porch before the snow began.  _Drake took hold of Ursula's dressing gown and ripped it off her supple body_, she read, _He threw her roughly to the bed.  Ursula cried out his name, begging him to take her.  "Oh, Drake, please, oh please.  Now."_  Mrs. Dotson cleared her throat.  Woo boy.  This one was getting hot.  She shifted in her chair and continued to read.  Another thump burst forth.  Damn dogs.  _Why do we need blue ticks anyway?  It ain't like Mr. Dotson is ever gonna get his ass out of that chair to go hunting_.  She sighed.  Stupid men.  _Drake was such a naughty boy.  He stripped out of his clothes, went down to her, and plunged into her sweet, sweet love pocket.  Ursula cried out again and dug her nails into the firm muscles of his back_.  THUMP.  THUD.  Annoyed now, she laid her book onto her thigh and glared at Mr. Dotson.

"Would you put those damn dogs up, Mr. Dotson?  I can't concentrate," she said.

"I'm at the best part of the movie, Mrs. Dotson.  Why don't you put them up?  You can catch up easier than I can."

"Uh huh," she said with a nod, "but you've seen this damn movie a thousand times.  Put those dogs up, Mr. Dotson.  Now."

Grumbling, he got up from his easy chair and grabbed his coat off the rack by the door.  _Lazy ass woman, reading trash, and acting like she owns the world._  He opened the door and had his mouth open to call the dogs when he stopped cold.  The thumps and thuds weren't the dogs.  A woman had fallen onto the porch, her face a bloody, pulpy mess.  _Is that her ear hanging by a thread?  Oh dear Lord Jesus_.  He was so horrified that he didn't know what to do.  Eventually, he found his voice and began calling for Mrs. Dotson.  Whoever the woman was, she looked dead.  Bitching audibly, she tossed her book down and approached her husband.  Her reaction was the same.  _Oh dear Lord Jesus_.  By morning, Mr. and Mrs. Dotson hung around the emergency room as the Virginia Medical Center treated the woman.  They were damned surprised that she was alive.  Poor thing.  She didn't appear to have a face anymore.  What was left of it was covered in blood.  Neither of them knew what had happened to her, but both wanted to stick around so that someone would be there for her when she regained consciousness.  It appeared that she didn't have anyone with her or anyone who cared for her.  Poor dear.

Grant awoke slowly.  She seemed groggy and out of sorts.  For a moment, she had forgotten everything:  the arrest, the preliminary hearing, and the bus ride.  The only thing that brought it all back was the massive amount of pain claiming her body, squeezing the hell out it, and refusing to let go.  She groaned a little and realized that she was too weak to move.  However, her arms and legs were working.  Carefully, she raised her arm just a little and drew her hand closer and closer to her face.  When she touched her cheek, she winced.  Although it was covered with bandages, it still hurt like hell.  Oh yes.  Her face was broken.  She wanted to see it, but she didn't have the energy to demand a mirror.  Goddamn.  She wanted to know, wanted to see.  She heard the soft 'whoosh' of the door as it opened.  Figuring it was another doctor, she tensed her body.  No pain, no pain.  Instead, it was an older couple, probably in their seventies.  For a moment, she didn't recognize them, either.  However, she realized they were the couple that had brought her to the hospital.  She'd collapsed on their porch amongst three or four horrible smelling dogs.  Grant wasn't the type of woman who thanked anyone.  Most of the time when people did favors for her, she believed she deserved it and no one needed thanks.  She opened her mouth as far as she dared and croaked out a word that sounded like 'thanks.'  After that, she passed out.

Two weeks later, Grant had gained some of her strength back and was able to tell the hospital her name:  Wenda Steen.  She cooperated with the nurses and doctors, allowing them to run tests, change dressings, and to give medication.  However, there came a time when her dressings were being changed that she insisted on seeing her face.  The nurse tried her best to discourage the young woman from looking into the mirror.  At this stage in her treatment, the appearance of her face would still be shocking to her.  Yet, the patient became extremely irritable and violent.  She demanded a mirror and wouldn't leave it alone until one was brought to her.  As Grant gazed upon her face, she hurled the mirror across the room where it crashed against the opposite wall.  There was a huge slash across her entire face.  It resembled a gigantic upside down Y, the top at her forehead and the branches covering her cheeks.  Her left cheek seemed caved in and her nose was squashed flat.  She couldn't look at her ear, but knew just from the feel of it that it had been sewn back on, probably hastily while some doctor contemplated his golf scores.  Her face would never look the same again.  _Oh Martel, you've really fucked up now.  You thought you were rid of me, but won't you be surprised?  I will get you, I promise you that_.

*  *  *

Donovan stood in the airport pacing impatiently.  When he arrived, he'd discovered that Larkin's flight was running late.  He was only slightly irritated, but not necessarily with Larkin.  He was anxious to see her and the damn airline had decided to be late.  He wondered vaguely if it was only him who was being picked on in such a fashion.  No one else's flight seemed to be late, only hers.  He shook his head.  Damn.  He was completely and entirely hooked.  After several moments, Donovan walked over to a line of chairs and sat down.  He smiled a little when he thought about the previous two weeks.  The moment he came back to work on the second day of January, the team had looked upon him with knowing little smiles.  He fixed his eyes on them, never missing a beat with his 'no mixing of private/public' veneer.  Of course, Cody could be counted on to make a comment.  His question was:  _So, Boss, how's Selena_?  Of course, Donovan had fixed him with a wicked look, but a thought crossed his mind:  _I hope she's exhausted_.  Yet, he said nothing of the kind, only barked at Cody to mind his own business.  None of them had ever known about Paige, but they had been aware something was unfurling between him and Larkin.  It didn't help that they'd heard he and Larkin having a very private conversation at the DOJ.  Earlier today, he had announced that he would be taking the rest of the afternoon off.  As he was walking out, Cody had called:  _Say hello to Selena for us_.  Donovan shook his head.  He never understood their fixation on his love life.  Larkin was part of the agency, one of them, but he would never break his veneer.  He had stuck to it much too long to release it.  Whatever came of this relationship would be held within him, outside the eye of those who didn't need to see it.  Donovan leaned forward in the chair and crossed his hands in front of him.  Her plane needed to land.  He wanted to see her, had missed her so much, and couldn't believe the strength of those feelings inside him.  He looked up when he saw a few people drifting in.  God.  It's about damn time.  Larkin was the sixth or seventh person to stroll out and he immediately zoned in on her.  He stood to draw her attention [_as if she could miss you_] and smiled a little as she made her approach.  A man not into PDA instantly took her into his arms and kissed her hard and passionately.  

When the kiss was broken, she looked up at him with a smile.  "That's one hell of a greeting," she said comically.

"It was a long two weeks," he told her, gazing steadily into her eyes.

"Oh yeah.  Very long.  Can we get out of here?"

Larkin hadn't been inside Donovan's apartment before, but was surprised and pleased to note that it was fairly large.  It was on the seventh or eighth floor of a high-rise building and offered a nice view of the night skyline.  She had wrapped herself in Donovan's shirt [it nearly made her a nice dress] and climbed into an easy chair that she had pulled over to a low window.  There was frost on the outside of the window, but the night sky was clear, giving no indication of any type of impending snow storm.  She glanced at the bed and noticed that Donovan lay on his back, his left arm resting over his lower abdomen.  They had knocked the covers off the bed a few hours ago and hadn't bothered to draw them back onto it.  He didn't have a stitch of clothing on and she took a few moments to look at him, to _really_ look at him.  Of course, she'd seen him nude dozens of times, had touched his body, but she hadn't gotten an opportunity to simply look at him, or to study the lines of his face, the contours of his muscles.  He was a beautiful, beautiful man.  She stood and approached the bed, hoping that when she climbed onto it, he wouldn't awaken.  Luck was with her.  He hadn't moved an inch.  She turned onto her side and faced him.  She leaned up on her elbow and gazed at him.  Asleep, he seemed truly at peace.  The lines present in his face while he was awake were gone.  She wasn't sure how Donovan had felt during that two-week stretch, but she had been antsy and upset.  She missed him, missed everything about him.  He had ways of making her feel so special without saying a word.  She had wanted to think her connection to him was purely physical, but that had been shot out of the water after the time he'd spent with her in D.C.  It was a little scary thinking in terms of a relationship with him, especially since they had such separate lives in different parts of the U.S.  _Jane, things like that can be fixed_.  She shook her head a little.  _Dear God, am I falling in love with him_?  Sighing a little [her thoughts were a bit too much to dwell on right now], she adjusted her position just the slightest and drew her body closer to his.  The moment she touched him, he moved a little so that she could pillow her head on his chest.  Almost absently, his hand began to caress her hair, his fingers running through it.  He was still asleep to a degree, and by morning, he probably wouldn't remember anything he said or did.

"You okay," he asked, his voice taking on a low, dreamy quality.  "Are you cold?"

"No," she said, "I'm great."

"Selena, I wish you didn't have to go back," he said in the same dreamy voice.

She smiled a little.  Was he awake?  Was he dreaming?  She wasn't sure, but she liked hearing those words leaving his mouth.  To her, it said that she meant as much to him as he did her.  "Neither do I."

The next morning, Larkin was still in bed when she heard the shower running.  She glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was half past five.  Yuck.  She didn't get up this early unless she absolutely had to do it.  Of course, she was on vacation [sort of].  There were a few things she would take care of at the DOJ office in town, but it was something she wanted to run past Donovan before she actually went through the motions.  Just as she was about to climb out of bed to join Donovan in the shower, he shut it off.  Bummer.  A while later, he came out of the bathroom freshly showered with his hair still a bit damp.  He watched her with a smile as she stretched her body dramatically and made a nice little silky cry as she did so.  It was a comical exaggeration of the cry she made when he made love to her.  He debated with himself for a few moments.  Could he afford to be late today?  Hmm.  What was going on later?  He had a meeting with the upper brass later this afternoon, but nothing this morning.  Dare he slip up?  It was very tempting.  When she shifted her body ever so slightly, he realized that she hadn't buttoned the shirt.  Okay.  He could be late.  One time wouldn't hurt.  He climbed into bed beside her and drew the shirt away from one shoulder.  He placed a gentle kiss on it and then drew back to look at her.

"Aren't you going to be late," she asked.

He nodded.  "Probably.  Are you complaining?"

"Absolutely not."  He kissed her and his hands immediately began stripping the shirt away.  Before he could go any further, she gently pushed at his chest.  He gave her a confused look.  "I need to ask you something.  I want your input."  When he said nothing, she continued, "What would you say if I put in for a transfer from D.C. to Chicago?  It might take a while, but I could at least put my name in.  How do you feel about that?  How would you feel if I came here to stay?"

There were so many things he wanted to say, but he needed to ask one question before he told her what was truly in his heart.  "Is it what you want?"

She nodded.  "Yes.  But I…I need to know…"  There was no way she wanted to push her way into his life as Paige had done.  If he didn't want it, she wouldn't do it.

He didn't want to be selfish, but he had to be honest with himself and her.  "I would absolutely love it.  I want you here.  I've always wanted you here."

She smiled.  "Okay," she said.  She leaned up on her knees and discarded the shirt.  "You can make love to me now."

He sat up and took hold of her hand.  "Come here."

*  *  *

Larkin entered the DOJ building and headed for the elevators.  She had no earthly idea how long a transfer would take, but she knew it wouldn't be anything instantaneous.  When she climbed into the elevator, her eyes immediately went to the '3' on the panel.  She had momentarily forgotten that Paige Harrison still worked here.  However, what was the chance of her running into the woman today?  IA was on a different floor and she would have no purpose there.  Yet, the thought bothered her tremendously.  She hadn't seen the woman since the day Paige had asked if she knew Donovan.  The elevator stopped on the fifth floor and when the doors came open, she cursed fate.  Who stood before her but Paige Harrison?  How awkward was this?  She hoped that Paige wouldn't climb into the car with her, but of course, she did.  Her only saving grace was the other people surrounding them.

"You live here now," Paige asked without looking at her.

"No.  I'm on vacation," she said flatly.

"Visiting Frank?"

_Nosy ass bitch_.  "Well, I don't see that as any of your business," Larkin said.  When the elevator stopped on her floor, she said a silent prayer.  "Later, Paige."

Later, Larkin was napping when Donovan slipped into the apartment.  He had come in for a brief respite before going back.  Tonight would be difficult.  He kicked off his shoes and joined her on the bed.  The moment he touched her, she woke up and turned toward him.  She kissed him gently.

"I have to go back in a few minutes," he explained.

"S'okay," she muttered.  "I put in for the transfer."

"And?"

She sighed.  "It could take up to eight months.  They don't have a slot open just yet, so I…I don't know when…or how we'll…"

There were tears in her eyes.  "Hey, it's okay.  We can do it.  I don't want to end this, Selena, I think what's beginning to happen with us is worth fighting for.  It won't be easy, of course, but is anything _ever_ easy?"

"You think it can work?"

He kissed her forehead.  "We'll find a way."

*  *  *

Donovan slipped inside the darkened apartment and tossed his key ring onto a low table by the door.  He heard the steady hiss of the shower coming from the bathroom.  What the hell is she doing in the shower at this hour?  He moved through the dark, hoping that he didn't stumble on something as he made his short journey.  He sat on the side of the bed, his eyes fixed on the closed bathroom door.  He had every intention of undressing and then climbing into bed.  He was completely wrecked.  The shower was still running when he finished undressing.  He stood and took hold of the covers.  Donovan stopped and turned back toward the bathroom.  _This is a move you haven't taken in a few years, but you can't stop yourself, can you_?  Slowly, he moved toward the bathroom door and creaked it open.  The room was filled with steam and he could just make out Larkin's body behind the lightly frosted glass door.  He took hold of the door handle and opened it.

She turned suddenly, perhaps a bit startled, but her look changed to that of unexpected surprise.  He had never come in the shower with her.  She had been tempted more than once to join him, but he always seemed to manage to get out before she could get in.  She had always wondered what his aversion was, but she hadn't ever asked directly.  She turned toward him and he leaned down to kiss her.  When he had first stepped in with her, he thought that he'd be possessed by thoughts of Taryn.  However, the moment his lips met hers, he could think of nothing but his Selena.  It was the most beautiful thought to ever enter his mind, one thought that consumed him completely.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**  


	3. Distance

DISTANCE

September, 2004

Donovan and Larkin had barely gotten out of the SUV before the chilly rain began pouring down.  By morning, it would more than likely become sleet or snow.  Grabbing what they could carry in one trip, both of them dashed onto the covered porch and Larkin waited impatiently while Donovan unlocked the door.  If he didn't hurry, she'd surely have pneumonia within the hour.  After he fiddled with the door a few moments, they were finally inside.  However, it was colder inside than out.  Donovan tossed down the bag, opened it quickly, and dug around for the lighter he had brought with him.  While Larkin stood in the middle of the room freezing her ass off, Donovan flicked the lighter to begin searching out a few lanterns and kerosene.  He knew the family kept plenty of it around as this place was used quite frequently.  She shook her ass right off as he moved to check the lanterns for kerosene.  Luck was with him.  There were several scattered about with more than enough inside to sufficiently light the room.  He lit as many as possible and Larkin began to walk around a little.  Movement kept her warm, but she also wanted to look around.  The inside of the cabin was very small with everything in one large room, like an efficiency apartment.  A fireplace nearly dominated a small wall on one side, while a large bed dominated on the other.  The appliances were older than she had seen in a while.  Her eyes fell on a stove and she looked at Donovan quizzically.  

"It's never worked," he commented.  "No one has gotten around to furnishing electricity or natural gas."

She grinned a little.  The grin was more along the lines of an 'I can't believe you dragged me out into the wilderness' than one of happiness.  She watched as Donovan grabbed a lantern to search out wood and kindling.  She wrapped her arms around her trembling body and moved around the tiny amount of floor space.  There were small framed photos on the hearth of the fireplace.  She approached and squinted up at them.  She took one down and gazed at it.  It was one of Donovan and an older couple.  _Has to be his parents.  He looks just like his mother_.  She replaced it and took down another.  This seemed to be an older photograph, more along the lines of a family portrait.  Most of who she assumed were Donovan's siblings resembled their mother.  This portrayed a very young Frank Donovan; he was probably no more than twenty.  In it, he had shoulder length hair.  _Oh Jesus.  He was a longhair.  What a damn switch_.  She gasped aloud [as if she were caught pilfering] when Donovan entered the room carrying a small box loaded with four or five logs and smaller pieces of wood for kindling.  

She replaced the photo.  "I'm sorry," she said, her face reddening slightly.

He set down the box and then stood before her.  "Don't be.  It's okay.  This belongs to my family and you don't know much about them.  It's normal to be curious."  He took her ice-cold hand in his and brought it up to his lips.  "Let me get a fire started before your lips turn as blue as your hand," he said with a smile.

While Donovan fought with the fireplace, Larkin made quick work of her damp clothes.  She unzipped her bag and was relieved to note that she had grabbed the right one.  She dug out her fuzzy robe and slippers and literally threw herself into them.  By that time, Donovan had gotten the fire going pretty good.  She turned when she heard his slight chuckle.  She stuck her tongue out at him and moved quickly over to the source of heat that would be roaring at any moment now.

"Couldn't you have found one a little thicker," he asked amusedly as she sat near him.  She showed him her tongue again.  When he was satisfied with the progression of the fire, he slid in behind her, enveloping her body with his long legs.  She leaned into him and he secured his arms about her.  "I can see why you wear this now," he said.  "It feels nice."  

_Don't tell me this distance between us is making him get weird on me_.  She could sense tentativeness about him, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't quite bring the words to the surface.  His hands were warm against her body and she placed hers over his, slipping her fingers between his.  Whatever he wanted to say, she wished he would come out with it already.  Larkin had no idea why he had chosen this particular place to bring her.  For eight months, they had fought to maintain their long distance relationship despite the pitfalls.  Every month, they tried to have two weeks together, either she came to him or he to her.  It was excruciatingly difficult for Donovan to get the time.  However, he somehow managed it on more than one occasion.  There were times when neither of them could connect face-to-face, but there were telephones and computers.  Praise Jesus for technology.  This two-week span found him totally and completely on vacation.  He had absolutely insisted and had even arranged for a temporary replacement.  He wasn't the only damn agent capable of working with the team.  Each of them had something to say to the other, but neither had an idea what it was.

_Donovan, you're stupid, stupid, stupid.  Don't you think she knows something is on your mind?  Why else would you bring her here_?  He tightened his hold on her body and inhaled her perfume.  The separation was getting harder and harder to tolerate, but he held onto it, held onto her.  "Better," he whispered huskily, his voice drifting down into her ear.  She sighed and muttered a sleepy 'mmm hmm.'  _If you don't say it now, she's going to fall asleep.  Goddamn you, Donovan.  You should have done this months ago_.  He closed his eyes and sighed.  It had been quite a while since he had spoken these words and truly meant it.  "Selena?  _Ich liebe Sie_," he whispered.

"Frank, what did you say," she asked.  Despite the amount of time she had been with him, she had never learned to decipher his words when he tripped into German.  She often wondered if he did it to toy with her [in a good way].  

"I love you," he whispered again.

She sighed contentedly, knowing with everything that she had in her that he loved her, but hearing the words was overwhelming.  He hadn't ever uttered them in her presence.  "I love you, too."  Even though she didn't think it was possible at this point, his grip tightened yet more and he leaned his cheek against the side of her head.  "I like this place.  I'm glad you brought me here."

When he heard her utter the words back to him, he couldn't describe the emotions that swept through him.  He felt relief, elation, and horrid nervousness.  Suddenly, he felt the desire to tell her more.  "It's special to me, it's a place I can come to be myself.  I don't have to be a SOG leader or an accountant or an in-between guy between two separate organizations.  All I have to be is me; it's whom I want you to know above all else.  It's why I wanted to bring you here.  I've never brought anyone here, I've never been able to do that."

She wholeheartedly believed that.  It wasn't a line of bullshit or his way of manipulating her.  He had never, _would_ never do that.  "I know a lot about you now, enough where you no longer thoroughly disgust me," she said with a laugh.  She could feel him smiling against her.  "I have my own big whopping thing to say to you, as if hearing you say you love me wasn't enough.  By November, Thanksgiving at the latest, I should have the transfer that I requested.  Someone is retiring in November and I'm getting his slot."

A little thrill raced through his soul.  "Really?"

She shifted her body just the slightest and he released her.  Unceremoniously, she hiked up her fluffy robe and straddled one of his legs.  She wanted to see his face on that one.  "Really.  I've known for a couple of weeks, but I wanted to wait until we were face-to-face again."  She leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.  "I've never known someone who has gone the lengths you have to maintain this relationship, but I've wanted it just as much as you.  I love you for your patience, Frank.  I love you for that most of all."

He said nothing.  Instead, he reached for the sash of her robe and pulled it out of its loose knot.  He opened it just enough for it to fall away from her body.  She wore only her panties and bra underneath.  "I hope you mean what you say about liking this place, because I don't intend for us to leave until the very last day you're with me."

She leaned up to accept his deep kiss.  He broke it just moments later and held a steady gaze with her as he unhooked her bra from the front and slipped it off and away from her body.  She leaned up again as his lips and tongue touched her throat.  His hands moved down her back where they slipped briefly into her panties as he dug his fingers into her buttocks.  She threw her head back a little and moaned.  Gripping the small of her back with one hand, he lowered her to the floor.  Kissing her again, he slid his hand back into her panties and began dragging them down.  Within seconds, she was completely nude before him.  She went to work undressing him, taking her time, touching while she moved.  He didn't make one move to help her, he allowed her to offer her own brand of torture intended specifically for him.  Once he was undressed, they kissed again and Larkin molded her body against his, running her fingers over him delicately, but with great urgency.  He didn't want to remove her hand, but he also didn't want their lovemaking to end before it began.  He moved suddenly and pulled her atop him, her hand falling away naturally.  He sat up to meet her and plunged his hands into her hair while his mouth assaulted hers passionately.  

"I want you now," she whispered when he released her lips.  

"So you'll have me," he said right before he entered her.

Their bodies moved together in a timeless, eternal rhythm.  His eyes locked with hers and he realized that she was utterly beautiful as the flames burned on, casting a red glow on her body.  God, had he ever felt so strongly about one person like this ever before?  He couldn't begin to explain the deep, immediate connection.  At the same time, he didn't care if it was ever explained to either of them.  When he met his release inside her, he told her he loved her again, and was hard pressed to let her go.

*  *  *

Larkin was up early.  Actually, she couldn't help it.  It was damn cold inside.  The fire had died out some time in the night and neither of them had the energy to get out of bed to stoke it.  The temperature didn't seem to bother Donovan at all; in fact, he seemed to have settled more deeply into the covers.  She dressed quickly.  Subzero temperatures and naked flesh didn't mesh well.  _You're exaggerating, Jane.  It isn't that cold_.  When she was sufficiently dressed [a blouse with two sweaters], she peeked out the small window.  As she expected, the rain from the night before had changed to snow.  There was a light dusting on the hood of the SUV and some had blown onto the porch.  Larkin stepped outside to take in the view and it was incredibly glorious.  She saw snow capped mountains everywhere, seemingly a lifetime away.  At first, she hadn't been so crazy about the idea of coming out here, but now that she had seen the scenery, she was glad.  She had seen nothing like this before.  The altitude began working on her and she became a little dizzy.  She noticed a chair just a few inches from where she stood and she went to it and sat down.  She cursed for a bit when her ass made contact with the cold seat.  However, she quickly grew accustomed to it.  It wasn't quite subzero outside, but cold enough to maintain the overnight snow.  She stretched dramatically and rubbed her arms up and down a few times.  It was great out here, but not as good as it was inside.  Perhaps she could get a fire started.  If not, maybe she could persuade Donovan to get it going.  She stood up slowly just in case the dizziness struck again and moved back toward the door.  

Larkin entered the cabin and saw that Donovan had arisen, donning a pair of pajama bottoms and an opened robe.  Completely surprised, she watched as he started coffee [in the _electric_ coffee maker] and she suddenly noticed that the room was warmer than it was when she stepped outside.  When he turned to move toward the nonworking natural gas stove, he stopped, noticing her for the first time.  "Okay, I thought you said there was no electricity or gas here."

He smiled a little guiltily and shrugged his shoulders.  "I lied."  He approached her and took her into his embrace.  "If I'd have told you about that last night, there would have been no fire built, and I would have had to make love you in a boring old bed.  Wasn't it much better before the fireplace?"

"That was a lot of trouble to go to just to tell a girl you love her, just to make love to her.  I should cut you off for two weeks for doing that," she said, smiling mischievously.

"I could get to you easily," he countered.  "I've done it many times before."

"You do think highly of yourself, don't you," she asked, her smile never faltering.

"There are certain things that I do well, and one of those is steadfast persistence.  If you doubt that after all this time, you could try cutting me off, as you say, but I can persuade you to change your mind within hours," he said, deadpanning for all he was worth.  

"Well…consider today your first day, Frank."  When she tried to pull her body out of his embrace, he held onto her tightly, nearly crushing her to his chest.  His hands began to move, and she thought she had an opportunity to escape.  However, he had only loosened the embrace to move his hands down to cup her buttocks.  "Uh," she sighed.  "Okay, okay.  You win, I won't cut you off."

He chuckled.  "Incredible, a minute and a half.  Record time, I think."

*  *  *

January-September, 2004

Mr. and Mrs. Dotson made Wenda Steen their personal mission.  They remained with her through the horror of her hospital stay and the surgeries she had had to repair the damage done to her face.  She had been released from the hospital after two months and was taken into the care of the Dotson family.  She had no other place to go.  Wenda claimed that she remembered nothing before or after the accident.  The only thing they knew was that she was completely forlorn regarding her mutilated face.  Of course, it wasn't as bad as Wenda would like to believe, but to her it seemed as if the world had ended.  The Dotson's set Wenda up in their guest bedroom and made her as comfortable as possible.  When the old farts finally left her alone, Grant began to plot out what she would do.  First of all, she had to fix her face.  She had been told virtually nine dozen times that she would never look the same again.  Of course, the surgeries she would need wouldn't be very damn cheap, but there was no way she could live life looking like a hideous monster.  The hospital had partially repaired her cheek and had shaped her nose the best way possible, but nothing had covered up the scar.  She hated the scar most of all.  She had money tucked away, but the thing was, how could she get to it?  Although her face was destroyed, someone would probably recognize her, if not her demeanor, posture, and voice.  Perhaps if she hung around here long enough, the farts offering shelter would allow her access to a vehicle.  She had no desire to stay here, but they had taken her in, as if they felt responsible for her.  She liked taking things from people, but she didn't enjoy being treated like an invalid.  Sooner or later, this would have to end and end quickly.

By late February, Grant had earned the trust of the Dotson's, and they allowed her to borrow their crappy pickup truck.  It smelled of chewing tobacco and dogs.  It mattered little to her.  After she parked the shitty truck, she never intended to go back again.  She would get her money, rent a car, and get where she needed to go.  Before she left the area totally, she dyed her hair so that it would match her natural color.  Through several underground connections, connections who knew better than to squeal, she was given the names of several surgeons who could restore her face.  She chose one who was located in a neutral state between Chicago and D.C.  She would remain there for several months until her face had some semblance to normalcy.  After that, she would take care of business and eliminate a couple of players.  As it was, there were too many on the field.  Let's get this shit rolling.

*  *  *

Another airport, another day, two people avoiding goodbyes.  Donovan and Larkin kept telling themselves that it was only two more months.  However, they often counted it out to almost the last second.  Two months meant sixty days, eight weeks, fourteen hundred and something hours.  It was incredibly nerve wracking.  Larkin had had the most difficult time leaving the cabin and then leaving for the airport.  God.  Had she ever thought a man could creep into her life and latch on so quickly?  She wondered what would have happened if he hadn't made that 'can I see you' phone call eight months ago.  Her friends had told her repeatedly that she loved him so much because he was her first.  She doubted that completely.  Sure, he was her first, but it wasn't like she had felt her virginity was some sacred cow never to be touched or used.  She had zero hang-ups about 'saving herself.'  It was horseshit her mother had to endure and she sure as hell hadn't wanted to endure it.  Why did she need a reason to be in love with anyone?  Did she ever ask her girlfriends why they fell in love with their men?  Hell no.  She deserved the same respect.  

"Selena," Donovan's voice said.

She came out of her daze.  "Did you say something, Frank?"

He smiled a little sadly at her.  "Ignoring me now?  All I said was that your flight is close to being called.  I want to do my fade if that's all right."

She nodded with her own sad little smile.  "It's okay."

He took her into his arms and held her in a tight, warm embrace, nearly lifting her feet off the floor.  His mouth covered hers and his kiss was as passionate as his embrace.  Once broken, he laid his hand on her cheek.  "I love you, Selena."

Each time he said it, she felt weak in the knees.  "I love you, too."

As was custom, neither said goodbye, they simply parted and walked away in different directions.  ****

*  *  *

Grant stood off to the side as she watched Martel leaving his little girlfriend.  If there weren't so many people around, she would have approached the girl right away.  Oh well.  There was time for that.  She wanted to get both of them together if it was possible.  However, the little slut was going back to wherever she came.  She shook her head a little.  _She's from D.C._  Since the accident, her memory was wonky.  Other ideas began to bloom in her head.  She smiled a little as she cooked them up.  What could she do to harm the girlfriend?  She knew everything about Martel's past.  However, there had to be something, some little thing that would destroy her.  She smiled even wider when it came to her.  Perfect.  _I hope you're ready to lose another woman, Martel_.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**  


	4. Dragon's Breath

DRAGON'S BREATH

Incredibly despondent, Donovan went back to his apartment after leaving the airport [_and Selena_] behind.  His two weeks with her had flown and it felt as if he were with her only a day or two.  He missed her already and she had been in the air no more than an hour.  She would call him as soon as she arrived home, but he didn't know if he had the patience to withstand that.  _God.  Listen to yourself.  You sound like a man who cannot live without his woman.  It's sickening._  He sighed as he entered the kitchen.  It _was_ getting harder to say goodbye every time he or she left.  In those first few months, he thought he might go insane.  However, that insanity was slowly drifting away, because within two months, Larkin would be in Chicago, and this crazy long distance relationship could end.  He could not wait until that day came.  He reached up to an overhead cabinet where he kept a selection of wines.  Donovan opened the door and grabbed a bottle without first looking at it.  He needed to relax and a glass of wine would do it.  He opened another cabinet where he kept the wine glasses and pulled one down.  As he was pouring the red liquid into the glass, he heard a large crash just down the hall.  It was distracting enough to jostle his hand.  A few droplets of wine landed on the counter.  _What the fuck?_  Not bothering with the splash of wine, he went to the door, opened it, and glanced out into the hallway.  A young man and a dark haired woman were trying to move a couch into a vacant apartment four doors down from him.  Apparently, the man had dropped his end.  Donovan fixed them with an irritated look.  He hoped they were finished by tonight.  He didn't want to listen to that shit while trying to sleep.  He noticed that the woman looked up and smiled apologetically toward him.  He nodded toward her absently and turned to go back inside.  From the periphery of his vision, he noticed that she was watching him with some interest.  He shut and locked the door.  Donovan went back toward the kitchen to clean up his mess and then to drink his glass of wine.  His weekend would be dead and lonely.  On Monday, he would face work again and two more weeks without Larkin.

Donovan took his glass of wine over to the couch and sat down.  He felt a bit of a headache coming on and knew that drinking the wine would only make it worse.  However, he needed it to relax.  He was a bit wound up and anxious.  He always felt this way after Larkin left.  He killed the wine in one large gulp and then leaned back against the sofa.  He was trying to take a snooze, but the damn noise in the hallway wouldn't stop.  _Thud.  Boom.  Bang._  The noise was followed by indignant curses of a young man and then the hissing commands of an enraged woman.  Within his nap, he groaned.  His building was a good one.  It wasn't the best in town, but most of the people here were middle to upper middle class and virtually quiet.  However, the new tenants were going to change that.  If they didn't stop, he thought he might go out into the hallway and scream at them.  As the voices faded within his dream, he thought there was something familiar about the voice of the woman.  He almost had his finger on it, but it went away as he sank deeper and deeper into the fog of his nap.  He would know nothing until the phone rang.

After his phone conversation with Larkin [it had lasted about three hours], Donovan felt jumpy and restless again.  He had to do something to wind down.  This feeling was also typical after speaking to her on the phone.  He went into the bedroom with the intention of taking a shower.  However, he couldn't shake the restless feeling.  He went to his dresser and dug out a jogging suit.  He spied his shoes in front of the closet door and snagged them.  Perhaps if he ran for a couple of miles, it would exhaust him enough so he could sleep.  After he was dressed, he went back into the living room, grabbed his keys, and walked out into the hallway.  He immediately noticed that the woman and the young man were still busily moving their things into the apartment.  As he moved past them, he noticed again that the woman was gazing at him curiously.  In those few moments, Donovan took note of her short black hair and small build.  Her skin was very dark, as if she had spent a good portion of her time in a sun bed.  Her features appeared both sharp and dull at the same time.  She wasn't unattractive, but something about her didn't seem right.  The young man with her was more of a boy; perhaps a teenager, and he gawped at Donovan almost as much as the woman did.  He ignored them and moved onward.  They were a weird pair, but Donovan assumed that the woman was the boy's mother.

An hour and a half later, Donovan came back up to his floor, effectively sweaty and exhausted.  He was relieved when he noticed that the two new tenants weren't out in the hall.  They bothered him, unsettled him some way.  Of course, he was never one who easily mixed with his neighbors.  It wasn't wise in his business.  He never knew if the people he encountered were enemies or legitimate.  He entered his apartment and noticed that his message light was blinking.  Donovan hit 'play' and stood back to listen.  He smiled a little when he recognized Larkin's voice.  She had called to tell him she loved him before she went to bed.  He had made moves toward going into the bedroom when another message started playing.  The voice was low and raspy, an obscene parody of Larkin.  He waited, thinking that maybe she was playing some type of joke on him.  Instead, the person simply laughed, muttered an 'oops,' and then hung up.  Not normally a paranoid man, he decided to wait before he erased the message.  He would record it and take it to Cody on Monday morning.  Forgetting it for the time being, he prepared himself for bed, clearly ready to be done with this day.  When he climbed into bed, he settled back onto his pillow, grateful for the comfort, but missing the body usually beside him so very badly.

The next morning, Donovan went out again.  Normally, he tried to stay out of the public eye on the weekend.  He reserved that time to rest up for the week ahead.  As it was, he went out enough completing his regular job functions.  However, his irritability and restlessness were at an all time high.  He had completely forgotten about the new tenants and moved past the apartment without a flinch.  As soon as he left the building, he noticed that the street was abuzz with Saturday activity.  He suddenly had a yen for a cup of coffee.  He had coffee in the apartment, but he wanted something not made by his hands.  There was a coffee shop a few blocks down that he visited three or four times a month.  When he entered, he noticed that the place was halfway full.  It was still early.  He stepped up to the counter and before he opened his mouth, a woman turned toward him.  It was the new tenant on his floor.  Last night, he hadn't been close enough to her to really see her.  Today she stood no more than a foot away from him.  She was smiling at him again, but her smile seemed filled with decaying little things between her teeth.  It was an unsettling feeling.  Her hair was short, but long enough in the front to cover her forehead and ears completely.  Last night, the voice on his machine sounded like a parody of Larkin.  Today, this woman's haircut seemed to be a parody of Larkin's hair, but nowhere near as close.  He found himself wondering if she had been the voice on the machine, and if so, how did she get his phone number?  The damn thing wasn't listed and no one had it whom he didn't absolutely trust wholeheartedly.  Another thought entered his mind.  _Paige?_  Maybe it was her who made the phone call, but why would she?  He hadn't heard from her in over a year. As the woman waited for him to make up his mind, he found himself wanting to find another person to serve him, but she was the only one behind the counter.

"Good morning, neighbor," she said, her voice raspy and low.

_Yes_.  She was definitely the one who had made the call.  How had she found his number?  Why was she trying to imitate Larkin?  _Donovan, you're paranoid.  Everything you see and hear is a coincidence_.  At first, he didn't know how to answer her.  He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to answer her.  He wasn't a man who _took_ to people very easily.  "Good morning," he said solemnly.  "I'd like a double espresso."

_He's all business_, she thought as she moved away with his demand.  Last night, he hadn't said a word to her, only exchanged a few cold glances.  Today, he wasn't any better.  Hmm.  Maybe when she brought him his espresso, she could try speaking to him again.  He had to let his guard down at least from time-to-time.  One man could not remain so cold night and day.  Every now and then, she glanced back at him while he waited for his order.  He wasn't looking her way at all.  His eyes were focused on an object only he could see.  _Damn it.  You **will **look at me.  You **will** notice me_.  She brought him his drink.  "That's two fifty, neighbor."  

Donovan dug out his wallet and slapped a five onto the counter.  Without waiting for his change, he found a table completely out of the woman's line of sight.  He had no desire to allow her any other opportunities to stare at him.  He drank the strong liquid and then looked over to the vacant table beside him.  Someone had left a newspaper and he reached over and grabbed it.  He felt her eyes on him the entire time he leafed through the paper.  Sooner or later, he would ask her what her deal was.  If she was interested in him, he was off the market.  If she had issues with him, he would deal with her as he dealt with all others.  He finished perusing the paper approximately an hour later.  When he folded it and laid it back onto the table, he glanced up at the counter again.  The woman was still behind it, working busily.  However, she didn't turn one eye toward him.  _Thank God.  I was getting incredibly tired of her_.  He left the coffee shop and hit the streets again.  The woman was still shaking him up a little.  Overtly friendly people turned him off, made him suspicious almost immediately.  Those types of people had the most to hide.  If he saw her up close again, he might ask her name and check her background.  It couldn't hurt.  It might ease his mind and stop creeping him out.  He wanted to get out and do something, but he wasn't in the mood.  Instead of trying to stake out some activity, he turned and walked back toward his apartment building.  God.  He was pitiful and sickening, so very damn hooked to Larkin that he couldn't think straight.  He thought it might be worsening because her move was drawing closer and closer.  He couldn't wait for that day.  Donovan stopped again [surely looking like an idiot] and turned back around.  The apartment was a place he definitely didn't need to be.  He would wind up brooding even more.  

*  *  *

Much later, Donovan went out to dinner after seeing a movie.  He chose a place that would be considered a dump to the average person, but he loved it.  Everything inside was old-fashioned and from an earlier age.  There was no other place like it around town.  He came as often as he could and ordered a meal with enough cholesterol to kill five men.  It was a rare indulgence and one he leaned heavily on when there was a lot on his mind.  He picked up his greasy burger, bit into it, sighed contentedly, and then reached for the thick chocolate milkshake sitting near him.  _Heaven.  If I ate like this every day, I would weigh five hundred pounds in a month's time_.  He sensed eyes on him and he moved to put his burger down onto the plate.  Using his napkin, he glanced around the room.  Groaning inwardly, he looked up and saw his strange ass neighbor lady.  _Is she following me?  Goddamn it.  Even my treats are ruined for me_.  She only kept her eyes on him for a few seconds before looking away.  He shook it off and grabbed his sandwich again.  Damn it.  He would damn well enjoy his dinner without brooding about some stupid shit.  However, he would find out what her name was before he left.  It was time to check out the staring woman.  

Donovan ate his meal, polishing it off with relish and every now and then, he would look up at his neighbor.  She had yet to make eye contact with him again.  He felt as if she wanted to look, but didn't.  He looked up when she began to move.  If he didn't speak, he could lose her and his opportunity.  "Excuse me," he called before she moved past him.

She stopped and glanced down at the handsome man with a little smile on her lips.  "Hello again, neighbor," she said through her husky, raspy voice.

_Why do I get the feeling that she's faking?  _"Good evening.  My name is Frank Donovan.  Would you like to join me?"

_Finally.  All the following I've been doing is paying off._  "Of course, Frank, thank you.  I'm Bailey Devere."  She sat at his table in a chair directly across from him.  At that point, she began to scrutinize his features.  This Frank Donovan was hard-edged and stoic, but still handsome all the same.  She couldn't exactly call him gorgeous, because he wasn't, but he _was _interesting.  "I absolutely love this place."

He nodded sedately.  "Same here.  I noticed your moving in last night.  Where did you come from? Somewhere else in Chicago?"

She shook her head.  "No.  I'm from Ohio and have lived there all of my life.  My brother and I moved to Chicago when I bought the coffee shop I saw you in earlier.  I'm glad you're finally talking to me.  At first, I thought you were going to be something of an asshole," she said with a devilish little smile.

_You have a lot of nerve_.  "That's been said about me before," he replied with his own smile.  "Actually, you and who I assume is your brother were very noisy as you moved in.  I can be irritable at times and last night was one of them.  How do you like this area so far?  It's not the kindest city in America."  He hated this small talk chitchat shit, but he wanted to get as much information about her as he could.  He had no desire to know her better.  There was something buried beneath her outside veneer and he couldn't exactly pinpoint it.  Whatever it was, it was ugly and massively unattractive.  "Chicago isn't for everybody."

She smiled.  "You're right about that.  I like it fine, but my brother is having adjustment issues.  Poor kid misses his crowd in Ohio, but I couldn't leave him behind, not without supervision.  Our parents are deceased and Beau is only eighteen, technically a man, but still, he needs guidance."

_Bailey and Beau Devere?  How utterly fake.  Weren't they the main characters in **A Streetcar Named Desire?  **I am living in some fucked up alternate universe and when I wake up, it'll be fourteen o' clock.  This is weird and unsettling.  This conversation must end soon.  _"I can understand," he said thoughtfully.  Actually, he didn't give a ripe shit.  "Well, Ms. Devere, it was very nice chatting with you, but I'm expecting a phone call tonight and I need to get home," he said as he stood.

She stood at the same time.  "You know, I was about to go home myself.  I left poor Beau alone.  I'm afraid that when I get back, he'll have twenty kids in the living room with pizza and beer.  Care to walk with me?"

_Actually, I'd rather not.  _"Of course I'll walk with you."  

Donovan's mind wandered as Bailey droned on and on about her new life, the coffee shop, her brother, etc.  _I don't care, I don't care, and I don't care some more.  You talk too much and I can't stand that.  Yammering people do not have brains.  They rely on their mouths to make up for their ignorance._  He nodded in the right places and smiled vaguely, but he barely caught three words.  He walked onward with her, his mind mostly on Larkin, and the fact that she would be calling in less than an hour.  He entered the building before her, holding the door open.  After she slipped inside, he had hoped she would walk ahead.  However, she did not.  She waited for him and they continued toward the elevators.  As they rode up to their floor, he could see her watching him from the periphery of her vision.  _If she touches me, I might flip out._

"So, Frank," she said with a sigh, "would you like to come to dinner some night next week?"

He shook his head.  "I'm sorry, but I'm heavily involved with someone else right now," he said.

His response didn't thwart her a bit.  She smiled.  "That's quite all right.  She's a lucky lady."

He shook his head again.  "No, I'm the lucky one."  When the elevator stopped, Donovan exited it before she did.  Without so much as a goodnight, he went to his apartment and let himself inside.  He locked the door behind him and sat down on the couch.  "Damn it.  What a bizarre ass woman," he said aloud.  The phone rang beside him.  He didn't think about it, he simply reached over and grabbed it.  "Hello?"

"What?  No _Donovan_ barked harshly my way," Larkin asked amusedly from nearly seven hundred miles away.

"I don't bark that to women I love," he answered simply.  "I might as well say this right now.  I miss you."

"Me too," she said.  "Weather willing, I should be clear to come to Chicago in a couple of weeks.  The upper brass is a bit more lenient about the trips since I'm transferring.  I can always say I'm scouting for a place to live and so on.  Frank?  Your voice sounds strange.  Are you okay?"

He had said no more than twenty words to her, but she could pick up that his voice sounded strange.  He was, indeed, lucky.  "Sort of," he answered, but not answered.  "Actually, no.  I had a bizarre encounter with a woman all day today.  She and her brother moved in last night.  She's been watching me, following me maybe, and it's a little weird."

Larkin laughed a little.  "Maybe she's got a little crush."

He smiled.  "She did hit on me a little."

"Oh gosh, I can hear your ego inflating second by second, Frank."  She sighed.  "What it must feel like to have so many people after you."

"I'm only yours, Selena," he said, his inflections and nuances changing dramatically.  

"Oooh, I love it when you speak to me like that," she said, her husky voice growing huskier.  "So, babe, tell me…what are you wearing?"

He chuckled.  "No way will you do that to me again.  It's why I punish you so much when we're together."

"Punishment?  You call what you do _punishment_?  I'd like to see what you do to please."

"Selena?  I hate breaking into this, but I have to bring this back up," he began.  "Would you check again about the bus accident?  I'm very concerned and paranoid."

"I'll check," she said.  "I don't think anything is wrong.  Maybe she's just someone weird who wants you.  If you evaded her advances, perhaps she'll back off."

"Thank you," he said, "I know this sounds crazy, but I've been looking over my shoulder for years and it's a hard habit to break."

"It's okay, I understand.  If I find out anything different, I'll let you know as soon as possible.  Now…can we cut the shit and get back to us?"

"We can.  The move, Selena, where were you thinking of living?"

"I haven't really thought about it."

He sighed and licked his lips a little.  Suddenly, his mouth was very, very dry.  At moments such as this, he was straightforward and almost blunt, but not with her.  "Would you live with me or at least consider it?"

"I'll consider it," she said.  "I'll give you a definite answer the next time I see you."

"You're making me wait two weeks," he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I sure am, babe.  _Your_ punishment for not telling me what you're wearing." 

After another long phone conversation, and about a dozen 'I love yous,' the only thing Donovan felt like doing was hitting the sheets.  From down the hall, he heard noises in front of what he assumed was the Devere's apartment.  It sounded as if they were having either a party or an orgy.  Whatever the case, this bunch wouldn't last long in this building.  In fact, he was thinking of complaining himself.  He needed to get them away before they caused even more trouble.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	5. The Eyes of A Hydra

THE EYES OF A HYDRA

Grant lay back in her large bed.  She couldn't keep her eyes off the ceiling, couldn't stop thinking of revenge and of the victim in her current sight.  She didn't think she had been detected just yet, and that was okay with her.  The longer she stayed out of sight, the better.  Thus far, she hadn't heard any other news reports about the bus accident.  Hopefully, no one would ever question it.  She wanted the job done before she was discovered.  Once Martel and Larkin were dealt with, she might even turn herself in.  She laughed a little.  _Naw.  That idea is too crazy for words_.  Oh well.  Where could she go?  She had always been fond of Canada.  Perhaps she could head up that way and lose herself forever, live behind a lie and a mask, just as Martel had done for so many years.  She was restless tonight, restless and antsy.  She wanted to move quicker than she could, because she only had a tiny window of opportunity.  Sooner or later, either Martel or Larkin would discover the true identity of the bodies.  Once the secret was out, she was pretty much screwed.  Grant always thought ahead, even when others knew they had all the time in the world.  She had never been a procrastinator.  Procrastinators always came in last.  As soon as she arrived in town, she had begun to work, to map out her plan, her identity, and how she would achieve her goals.  It was the only way she could work, the only way she could ever get anything done.  Today, she had worked tirelessly, following her target, watching, waiting, and hoping that nothing happened before she attacked.  

*  *  *

Selena Jane Larkin yawned and stretched dramatically within the warm covers of her bed.  It was Monday morning and the clock had yet to start its annoying steady beeping noise.  She reached over quickly and smacked the clock.  There was no way she was going to let it wake her this morning.  Mondays were the worst for her.  She hated them, hated the beginning of the week.  However, within a couple of weeks, she would be in Donovan's arms, and then in November, she could move permanently.  His absence was as significant to her as it was to him.  Larkin glanced at the clock and noticed the time again.  Ugh.  She had no desire to get out of bed.  If she thought her boss wouldn't scream at her, she'd call in sick.  She could just hear him now:  _Sick?  What the hell?  You're getting two weeks off and then you're leaving us_.  When she thought of her departure, she immediately thought of Donovan.  The man was full of surprises.  When he took her to the mountains and then told her he loved her, she thought that he would never surprise her more thoroughly again.  However, she was wrong.  When she spoke to him on the phone, he did it again by asking her to move in with him.  It was certainly something she had never expected.  When she thought of how quickly her relationship with Donovan had progressed, it nearly overwhelmed her.  She had known him a little over a year, had been his lover almost as long, and now she couldn't imagine life without him.  _Funny how twelve months can change your life_.  She sat up and groaned a little.  Today would be a long day.  She had to work on a new case and get as much done on it as soon as possible.  The transitory phase with her replacement would be difficult and she didn't want to stress the new guy any more than she had to.  However, the temptation was enormously great to stay home.  _Get moving you lazy lovesick bitch._

It was colder than all get out that morning and Larkin was relieved that her time outside would be brief.  She found herself hoping that the weather would cooperate.  If anything happened to ruin her plans, she thought she might run through the streets stark raving mad.  She breathed a sigh of relief when she found a vacant slot in the parking garage.  She first thought she was going to arrive too late to get a good spot, and if she hadn't, she would have had to leave the car on the curb.  It was cold inside this structure, but not as bad as it was out there.  Jesus.  The weather was horrid for this time of the year and she felt it was a taste of things to come.  _God.  Please, please, please don't let anything interrupt my trip._  Larkin grabbed her briefcase and left the comfort and warmth of her car.  She moved toward the entrance to the building and heard hollow footsteps behind her.  She stopped and turned around, but she couldn't see anyone behind her.  Shrugging it off, she continued and entered the building from the back.  She didn't pay much attention to anyone as she walked through the corridor toward the stairwell.  Actually, she was a little distracted today, but couldn't exactly put her finger on it.  It wasn't that she missed Donovan [which she did…naturally]; it was something else, something off kilter.  Sighing, she clopped heavily to her office and unlocked the door.  She groaned incoherently when she saw the pile of paperwork awaiting her.  _Uh.  I should have stayed in bed._

Larkin approached her desk and opened the top drawer.  For a few moments, she scrounged around for her file cabinet key.  When she stuck the small key in the lock, her eyes settled on an unfamiliar face.  A woman was seated just outside Larkin's office at the secretary's desk.  Her hair was dark and cut short in a style that fell over her forehead and hid her ears.  She was gazing curiously toward Larkin's office, as if she knew her.  The woman made her very nervous.  Nothing disturbed her more than being stared at.  She was tempted to close the door, but thought it would offend the lady.  Larkin opened the top drawer and dug out the file she needed.  Glancing over her shoulder one last time, she carried it back over to her desk.  If the woman were there by the time she finished, she'd go out and speak to her.  Soon enough, Larkin became engrossed with the file and her new case.  She had just about forgotten the woman.  By lunch, she was starving [naturally], and when she left her office, the woman was still seated at the desk.  She watched Larkin curiously, following her with her eyes.  She sighed in frustration and clopped off toward the garage.  Today, she had a craving for Mexican food.  She only had an hour, but fuck it.  If it took longer, the upper brass could kiss her ass.  After all, she was leaving in November.  

She chose her favorite Mexican spot with _real_ food, not the cheap and nasty fast food stuff.  She was tempted to order a margarita, but thought better of it.  After all, she was on the clock.  As she worked through the cheese dip and chips, she glanced around the interior of the room.  Most of her co-workers avoided this place like the plague because of the rich, spicy, and fatty food.  However, Larkin was one of the lucky few who burned more calories sitting still than most people did running three miles.  She had always been naturally hyper and seemed to burn for hours at a time.  Her co-workers once joked that she might be manic.  As her eyes made a final scan, she noticed the woman from the office.  _Is she following me?  Who the hell is she?_  The woman's identity confused her greatly.  If she were a new employee, why hadn't anyone told her?  She _was _leaving the D.C. family in November, but she was still a part of the group.  It was then that she remembered the promise she had made to Donovan.  She'd told him she would check again about the accident, and she would.  First, she would have to get back to the office, but not before she ate her damn burrito.  

Larkin made it back to the office before the mysterious woman.  She quickly dove into her office and closed the door.  After making about a hundred phone calls, she was told the same thing that she and Donovan had known.  All the bodies were accounted for.  Kira Grant was dead and buried in an undisclosed location.  Larkin sat behind her desk, contemplating the hell out of calling Donovan.  If she did that at work, it would be highly frowned upon.  She would have to wait until she went home and she wasn't patient enough.  She moved away from her desk and opened her door.  The woman was back, stationed behind the desk that she had taken earlier today.  Without approaching the desk outright, Larkin moved past it as if she were going to the supply closet.  She spied the nametag on the woman's blouse.  Pellie Greene.  _Pellie Greene?  What the hell kind of name is that?  It has to be assumed.  Who would name a kid Pellie?  What is a fucking Pellie anyway?_  She wondered if personnel would tell her if they'd hired a new secretary or if she had been tossed in during one of her two-week respites.  _Goddamn it, Jane, just go up and ask her what the deal is.  Have you lost your nerve?  _She completed her trip to the supply closet and walked back with a handful of ink pens.  Larkin was certain she looked completely idiotic strolling around with her fistful of _Bics_.  Oh well, she was on a mission.  

Before she went back into her office, she stopped in front of the desk and faced this Pellie Greene.  "Excuse me," Larkin began.  "Are you new here?  I've never seen you before and lately, I've been in and out," she said.

She smiled and it was an odd little smile, almost disgusting.  "Yes.  I started just today as a be all-end all receptionist slash secretary slash administrative assistant.  I've worked in many governmental offices, but have never seen one so young in such a position as this."

_Okay, she has already made an enemy for life.  She's already knocking my age.  Just who are you, Pukie Greene?  What's your story?_  "Well, don't let my looks fool you, Ms. Greene.  I'm actually forty, but I've aged well, like cheese.  Nice meeting you, but I have work to do."

That evening, she went home immediately, not bothering to linger one minute at work.  She had a burning desire to speak to Donovan, not only to tell him about the accident, but also because she missed him so damn much.  She called about five times, but he never picked up.  She understood his line of work, knew that he was in and out, but damn it, she really needed to talk to him.  She went to her bedroom, taking her cordless phone with her, and jumped onto the big middle of the bed.  She began gazing up at the ceiling and chewing on her lip.  _Jesus, Frank, where are you?  _Taking a shot, she dialed up his cell phone number.  It rang five times before his voice mail kicked on.  She debated with herself for a moment, left a brief message, and then hung up.  She didn't know why she felt such desperation to speak to him.  It wasn't like what she had to say couldn't wait for a few hours, but damn it, the new employee creeped her out.  If Grant was, indeed, dead, then there was no way Greene could be her.  She had inherited yet one more lovely thing from Donovan, his paranoia.  She was lost in thought when the phone rang in her hand.  She jumped almost straight up and cried out.  She hadn't realized she was in such a daze.  God.  She hit the 'talk' button and spat out a shaky 'hello.'

"Selena, [_It's Frank…oh thank God, it's Frank_] are you okay?  Were you asleep?"  

She sighed deeply.  "No, I was daydreaming or something and the phone scared the shit out of me.  I called to tell you that I checked up on the accident and they're all accounted for.  There's nothing to worry about."  _Or is there?_  "You'll probably notice that I've called about nine dozen times.  Remember that weird woman in your building?  Well, her twin sister is now working at our branch office."

"Really?  I hope this is some kind of strange coincidence.  I had Cody check into the neighbor and he found nothing unusual.  You can give me the name of yours and we can check just to be safe," he said.

"That sounds like a plan, babe.  Her name is Pellie Greene.  Spelled P-E-L-L-I-E and Greene with an 'E.'  I think you gave me your paranoia, Frank, I really do.  Thanks a lot, by the way," she said sarcastically.

He chuckled and the sound of it coming into her ear made her shiver.  "Pellie Greene?  What the hell kind of name is that? [At that, Larkin smiled.  His thinking was right in line with hers.]  We'll check her out.  Oh, you're more than welcome for that gift.  I hate to do this, but I really have to go.  I love you, Selena."  

Without waiting for her to respond, she heard him end the call on his side.  She sighed heavily.  She hated when he did that.  _Yeah, he's still got enough asshole in him to make you cry, doesn't he?_  She placed the phone on the nightstand and got off the bed.  She couldn't nap, and if she did, she wouldn't sleep tonight.  What to do?  What to do?  

*  *  *

It was well past midnight when Donovan entered the nest.  He had the name that Larkin had given him written on the palm of his hand.  Although Cody would probably die if he knew Donovan was touching his children, Donovan knew his way around a computer a little.  What he didn't know when he began was learned through the years.  After the computer had started up and gave him the screen he wanted, he typed in the name, hit a key, and waited patiently.  After a moment or two, he had access to hundreds of pieces of information regarding the woman.  However, there was absolutely nothing indicating a shady past, just like Bailey Devere.  Donovan was tempted to send Larkin a picture of Devere so she could compare it to Greene.  Why would one woman travel between two places?  He had noticed that his new neighbor had been quiet here lately, but would she go to this much trouble?  If so, then who was she really?  She couldn't be Kira Grant unless she had somehow evaded death, and from the look of the burned bus, there was no way anyone could get out of that alive, even a woman as well trained as her.  He retrieved the information regarding Devere again and printed a picture that was on file.  When he next saw Larkin, he would show her and then compare what they had.  The women weren't Grant, but there was always the chance that she had other people supporting her.  Despite her putrid personality, Grant had friends and could manipulate a priest into breaking every vow known to man.  After the picture printed, he shut down the computer and made his way home.

When he arrived home, he smiled a little.  True to her word, Larkin had called several times.  He cleared them off the Caller ID and had then made moves to go into his bedroom, but a noise in the hallway stopped him.  He immediately recognized the voices of Devere and her brother.  They were laughing and making a hell of a ruckus, as if they were drunk.  Donovan was quite tempted to go out into the hall and scream at them, but what good would it do?  It would only irritate them and give him a killer headache.  He went into the bedroom and closed the door behind him, muffling the noise somewhat.  He glanced at the phone, tempted to call Larkin, but he hesitated.  By now, she would be in bed.  _I wish she were here in my bed_.  Two months would seem like an eternity.  Sighing, he began to undress for a late shower.  If he expected to function in the morning, he'd need tons of sleep.

*  *  *

Grant had spent another nice day watching and waiting.  She knew now that no one had suspected her true identity.  She wondered if they had forgotten she knew her way around computers?  She had made a nice file for her alias, stripped it clean, and it appeared as if she were as innocent as a baby.  All of them were so well trained, but utter idiots at the same time.  They couldn't see what was right before their faces.  However, she wasn't getting through to the target like she needed to.  It would take more time than she anticipated, but as long as they weren't suspicious, she could take all the time she needed.  She was still hidden well.  However, she was aware that someone had been digging into the accident reports.  

*  *  *

The next morning, Donovan was up relatively early, accomplishing the tasks of his morning routine.  When he was showered and dressed, he realized that he had some extra time.  Coffee.  He needed coffee.  Last night, he hadn't slept very well and a double espresso would hit the spot.  He gave no thought as to who owned the shop.  He didn't realize it until he saw her smiling face the first thing.  _Jesus.  I need to find another coffee shop_.

"Good early morning, neighbor," Devere said.  "Don't tell me.  Double espresso?"

He nodded curtly.  "Yes, thank you."

She turned away to fulfill his order and when she gave him his drink, her smile was still painted on her face.  "Here you go.  No charge.  See you around, Frank," she said, her voice husky, mocking almost.

_You won't see me if I have anything to do with it_.  "Thank you again."  He gave her another curt nod before exiting the shop.

She stood back with her arms crossed over her chest and watched as he made his way out.  Why couldn't he lean toward her a little?  What was it?  Was she _that _hideous?  She didn't think she looked half bad.  There had to be some way to break the ice.  What would she have to do?  What would she have to say?  He was fighting against her so hard, but every man had his breaking point.  This one just had a harder one.  _That's quite all right and okay.  Sooner or later, I'll have you right where I want you_.  

*  *  *

Larkin went to work the next day still a bit out of sorts with the world.  Today, if the Greene woman said one cross word her way, she'd smack her.  She walked down the hall and directed her eyes on the desk, but the woman wasn't at work yet.  Thank God.  She slipped into her office and had barely sat down before her phone rang.  "Larkin," she said.

"Donovan," he called back.

She smiled a little.  "Calling me at work isn't such a good idea.  What do you have for me?"

"You know, Selena, I could take that two ways," he told her.  "But I won't go into that, not while you're at work.  I actually called to tell you that Greene has no record of any kind, other than petty things like parking tickets and such.  Looks like we're simply two paranoid people.  I do have another theory here and there.  I printed off Devere's picture last night and when you get here, I'll show it to you.  We can compare and go from there."

She sighed.  "Sounds like we're _truly _paranoid.  Perhaps we should go to the mental institution together?  Okay, I suppose my detective work is now over.  Thanks for calling and letting me know.  At this point, I'm almost ready to demand her to tell me what her thing is.  Well, now it's my turn to shut you down, Frank.  I miss you."  Without giving him a chance to speak, she disconnected the call.  

Larkin propped her chin onto her hand.  Damn it all to hell.  There was so much confusion going on when there should have been none.  When would the world make sense again?

**____________________**

**To be continued…**  


	6. The Visit

THE VISIT

Donovan had gone to bed early.  He was expected at the airport around six to pick up Larkin.  God.  The anticipation of that nearly drove him mad.  It had taken nearly two hours for him to shut down and even then, his sleep was light.  Any little thing had the potential to awaken him, or so he thought.  He was actually deeper asleep than he suspected.  He didn't hear the front door opening or the slight creek when the bedroom door opened and then closed.  He didn't hear the soft 'thud' of a suitcase being dropped on the floor.  He heard none of this, which was fine to his late night guest.  Donovan jerked awake the moment he felt a soft touch on his back.  _What the hell?  Has that Devere woman finally found a way to break in_?  He turned suddenly to face whatever monster had decided to crawl into bed with him.  When he fixed his eyes on his actual guest, he sighed.  _Selena.  My Selena.  _A thousand questions assaulted him at once, but the only thing he could think of doing was taking her into his arms and holding her within his embrace in an almost crushing hug.  The moment the embrace loosened, his lips covered hers for a kiss almost as brutal as the embrace.  

Once he allowed her to breathe, he finally asked the first of many questions, "Selena, I didn't think your flight would come in until six this morning.  What happened?"

She smiled a little.  "I took an earlier flight out because I couldn't wait another minute without you.  Oh, and I sort of wanted to surprise you as well."

"That you did," he said, his hand immediately going to her hair.  "I suppose it would seem redundant to say that I missed you like hell?"

"It would," she agreed with a twinkle in her eye.  "But I like hearing it, anyway."

He kissed her again and it was at that moment he realized she was completely nude.  How did he not notice before?  It mattered little, because he noticed it _now_.  When he broke the kiss, he couldn't move for several minutes.  He could only gaze helplessly at her.  His hand reached out and moved slowly over her arm, down her side where it settled on the side of her hip.  She wanted to jump him because she had missed him so damn much, but it seemed as if his eyes had hypnotized her.  She was completely helpless to him.  His hand traveled back up her body and he stopped it again at her exposed breast.  He ran his fingers over it, teasing the nipple, hardening it.  She shifted position to give him freer access to her body.  Smiling a little, he leaned over her and continued running his hand along her body, keeping his eyes locked with hers.  He teased the other nipple before allowing his fingers to drift down between her breasts and then lower still to her abdomen.  Before his hand moved any lower, he leaned down and took her lips again.  Breaking the kiss, he took her hand into his and placed a gentle kiss on her palm before kissing each finger.  He loved her so much, loved everything about her, the good and the bad.  He again wondered if he had ever loved like this before.  He wasn't sure he wanted to make love to her; he was simply satisfied with holding her in his arms, touching her, kissing her.  When he kissed her again and her arms went around him, touching _him_, his need to make love to her came back.  During the kiss, they switched positions.  His hands moved down the slope of her back and cupped her buttocks.  He had missed her so much, had literally longed for her.  Two weeks weren't enough.  She broke the kiss so her lips could travel along his throat and over the expanse of his chest.  He closed his eyes and slid his hands up to grasp her waist to guide her back up.  He didn't want her lips to travel any further.  It wasn't that he didn't want her touch; he simply wanted this to last as long as it could.  

"Selena," he whispered, "I love you."

"I love you," she whispered in response.

Their lips met again, and again, their body switched positions.  She felt him against her, so rigid.  He was waiting for _her_, thinking of _her_.  God.  She had never known a man like him in her life, would likely never know another like him ever again.  He heard her groaning against his lips, within their kiss, and her hands traveled down to his back where her nails dug into him.  The kiss deepened even more and she groaned a nearly inaudible 'uh huh…now' against his demanding lips.  He finally broke the kiss and gazed down at her.  After one final soft kiss, after another declaration of his love for her, he entered her.  The lovemaking felt different, each move, each countermove, every touch, kiss, and taste was completely out of the ordinary.  They were each touching the other in ways they had never touched before.  It wasn't a physical kind of touch.  It was mental, emotional, almost…spiritual.  When he met his release within her, he couldn't move for several moments.  He stayed connected with her and propped his body on his hands.  Something was different, something had totally changed between them, but it wasn't anything either could touch.  It was vague and out of reach, but also something neither of them wanted to fear.  It garnered images of utter bliss and happiness.  

After a very long time, Donovan was finally able to move his body.  Reluctantly, he withdrew from inside her and lay at her side.  She quickly went into his embrace and pillowed her head against his chest.  As much as Donovan, Larkin wondered what the hell just happened between them.  They had made love countless times, but it had never been like this.  She decided not to question it.  Instead, she threw her arm across him and snuggled in as closely as possible.  If she hadn't lucked out and received a transfer, she didn't know what she would have done.  The separation was killing her and she was certain it was doing equal damage to him.  Two weeks.  Fourteen days.  It was nothing, no time at all, and so brutally unfair.  _November, Jane, all you have to wait for is November_.  Her hand moved gently over his chest and he brought his up and clasped hers.  They had barely spoken to each other; their bodies had done all the talking necessary.  

"Just so you know," he said, "I'm calling in sick tomorrow.  Do you mind?"

She laughed.  "Yes, I mind.  Go off to work.  Leave me here all alone in this big old bed.  It gets cold when you're not in it.  Have I ever told you that?  Actually, I'd kill you if you went to work in the morning.  I haven't seen you in so long.  Just one little day and then you can get back to what you need to do, at least in the daytime."

"Larkin, you're insane," he said with a smile.

"Donovan, you have driven me there.  Go to sleep, because tomorrow, I plan on wearing your ass out again."

*  *  *

When Donovan awoke, Larkin's half of the bed [_funny how he had suddenly labeled the empty spot 'Larkin's half of the bed'_] was vacant.  He sat up and listened for the shower.  Curiously, he slid out of bed and approached the bathroom door.  There seemed to be nothing going on inside.  The strong waft of coffee caught his attention and he padded toward the kitchen, not bothering to put anything on.  Larkin stood at the kitchen counter decked out in one of his ratty sweatshirts.  He mused [again] how long it was on her.  If she had a belt, she would be dressed for the day.  She had started the coffee and it appeared as if she had just washed her hands and finished drying them off.  He approached her from behind and pressed his body against hers.  Her body tensed up at his surprise maneuver, but as soon as she realized who it was, she relaxed.  He placed one hand on the side of her hip and the other traveled over the other and down to her thigh.  A moment later, his lips were on the side of her neck.  In the next two weeks, she wondered who, exactly, would be wearing out whom.  What made it worse was that he was completely naked and she could feel every damn inch of him.  Uh.  He was such a teasing bastard.  Before long, he had snaked his hand underneath the sweatshirt and it had made slow progression up to her ribcage.  Part of her ass was exposed at that juncture in the festivities, and she had a more up close and personal morning greeting from her lover.  Like an idiot, she simply stood against him and let him have his way with her, and of course, he took advantage of her paralysis.  The hand that had been on her hip moved under the sweatshirt as well and he began pushing it up further and further until it was basically bunched up under her arms, held on her body by the counter.  From behind, his hands outlined the rounded curve of her breasts and began a slow caress on them, his fingers not exactly making contact with her nipples.  She moaned a little and her body began to tremble just the slightest bit.  When his hands moved downward, they stopped just short of her lower abdomen.  She ached for his touch, would have probably begged for it if she could have vocalized.  Almost abruptly, he removed his hands and primly covered her nakedness.  He stepped back and away from her.

Larkin turned toward him, fixing him with a dazed WTF look.  "And _why _did you stop?"

"I need coffee," he said with a smile.  

Feigning offense, Larkin stood and watched as he grabbed a mug.  He poured the steaming liquid into it and added cream and sugar.  She watched this with some amusement.  Stark naked, he stood against the kitchen counter and sipped his coffee as if he were at a proper tea party.  She walked past him toward the bedroom, but before she got out of arm's reach, she pinched the shit out of his right buttock.  He nearly poured his full cup of coffee down the front of chest.  Yipping loudly at his growl, she ran toward the bedroom, trying her damn best to get the door closed before he came through.  However, she kept forgetting that his legs were five miles long and he caught up with her before she could blink twice.  She took off toward the bathroom next, but he reached out and took hold of her arm.  He whirled her around to face him and his hands went down to her buttocks and then crushed her body against his.

"You're going to pay for that, you know," he said, gazing down intensely in her eyes.

"Oh God, I hope so," she whispered.

Later, Larkin walked into the bathroom just as Donovan was getting out of the shower.  He lifted his left eyebrow and gazed at her in near reproach.  "I think you bruised it," he said.

She looked up at him and smiled.  "Oh shit, Donovan, you're such a baby.  Did I bruise your ass or are you trying to guilt trip me back to bed?"

Donovan approached her and touched her cheek.  "You should have come in with me."  He leaned down and kissed her lips very gently.  "I could have spent another hour or two making love to you.  Besides, you injured me."  He moved to kiss her again, but his work cell phone rang.  Emitting an irritated growl, Donovan grabbed his robe, slipped into it, and then entered the bedroom.  He picked up the phone and flipped it open.  "Donovan," he said and then paused while the other person spoke to him.  "Divert it, I told you that I'm taking a personal day today."  Another pause.  "No, I will not come in."  At that point, Larkin came to the open doorway of the bathroom and watched him curiously.  "No," he said again, "please don't call here again today."  Before he snapped the phone closed, he did something he rarely ever did; he turned it off, and snapped it closed.  "Sometimes, the upper brassholes are persistent.  As soon as I get dressed, we're out of here."

They took to the streets hand-in-hand and shuffled through the morning crowds.  Donovan wasn't even sure where he was taking her.  It didn't matter.  He was holding onto her, he was with her, and that meant everything to him.  Completely forgetting all about Bailey Devere, he walked her toward the coffee shop.  The moment he stepped through the door, he finally remembered.  He stopped and made ready to turn until he heard the woman's call from the front, 'hey neighbor.'  It was too late to back out now.  She had seen him and now she had seen Larkin.  Perhaps after she saw Larkin, Devere would back off and leave him the fuck alone.  Larkin squeezed his hand as if asking 'is that her?'  She had automatically felt the stiffening of his body.  He glanced at her and gave her a slight nod.  Larkin curiously fixed her eyes on the woman.  She had some of the same features as Greene, but they didn't quite seem to be the same person.  Larkin watched as Devere settled her eyes on her.  She had an odd little smile on her face.  Donovan moved a bit and led Larkin over to a table in the corner away from the prying eyes of Bailey Devere.  

Larkin sat down, but Donovan remained standing.  "Want anything?"  

"Bring me whatever you're having."  Larkin watched as Donovan strolled up to the counter.  The woman seemed completely taken with Donovan.  She wasn't looking at anything or anyone.  She couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but she noticed the slight flirtatious smile on the woman's lips.  Larkin had to be honest with herself.  The woman unnerved her as much as Greene did.  She wasn't exactly unattractive, but she was predatory.  Yes.  _Predatory_.  It was the only word that could explain it.  Donovan turned back around with two paper cups of coffee.  When he sat down, she took her cup.  "Thanks," she said.  "So this is the woman who has her caps set on you, eh," she said with a little smile.  Larkin took a sip and visibly recoiled.  Damn.  How much fucking caffeine was in this shit?

He chuckled a little.  "I suppose I should have warned you.  My thing here is double espresso," he told her.  "Yes, that's her.  She's the one who's freaking me out a little.  It seems as if I should know her, but I can't place her.  She's a pleasant enough person, I suppose, but somehow, it seems false, as if she'd rather slit my throat than look at me.  I'm not sure where all this is coming from.  I've spent so much time looking over my shoulder, so when new people try to get into my life, I'm immediately suspicious."

She took another sip of the extra strong brew.  Jesus, she'd be awake for three days straight if she drank all that.  Hmm.  Perhaps Donovan had done this purposely so he could torture her some more.  Shaking it off, she sighed.  "Well, Frank, who could blame you?  You've truly gone through hell and Grant didn't make it easy.  I know this woman is in the same building as you, but I'd just let it go, babe.  If you don't, you're never going to feel normal again.  She's just some woman who seemingly has a bad case of the screaming hornies for you."  She drank more of the coffee and then smiled at him brilliantly.  "I can relate."

She had a good view of the couple from the kitchen in the back.  He simply thought he was out of view sitting in the corner.  She had been simply staring at Donovan, but today, he had added an extra element to the mix.  This woman, this little _ineffectual _woman was seated across from him.  Devere noticed that he was holding onto the woman's hand and acted as if she were the only person he could see.  It was a little on the sickening side.  She had the greatest desire to break it up before she puked.  _You will pay attention to me, goddamn it.  You will.  If I have to jump in the big middle of you right in front of your piece, I'll do it.  Just watch and see, you fucker._  

As soon as they finished their coffee, Donovan was ready to get the hell out of the coffee shop.  He was afraid Devere would approach him and wonder who Larkin was.  The two of them hit the streets once again.  "Frank, let's go to the nest for a minute.  I'd like to at least see Cody and Monica," she said.

He glanced down at her briefly.  "No, let's not.  If I walk in there, I'll be snagged and sucked in.  Besides, I don't want to be plied with a ton of questions or suspicious looks."

"Come on, Frank, don't you think they know something is going on between us?  It's not a big secret.  Hell, they heard us arguing after our first night together.  Come on; let's go so I can see them just for a minute.  You don't even have to go in if you don't want."

He groaned a little.  "Ohhhhhhh…kay," he said reluctantly.  "No longer than ten minutes.  After that, I leave with or without you.  It's hard playing hooky visiting your workplace, you know?"

"I'll make it up to you later, okay?"  

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.  "A promise of things to come," he said.  "I love you for that, Selena."

As Larkin had promised, she lingered no longer than ten minutes at the nest.  She stayed just long enough to shoot the shit and then she and Donovan left again.  Once in the car, Donovan noticed that Larkin was thumbing through a small magazine-type booklet.  He'd seen them before.  It was a real estate listing and she was going through it meticulously, making small marks beside each one she liked.  For a moment, it made him feel a little rejected.  Her thumbing through the guide made it seem as if she didn't want to live with him.  _You're pushing, Donovan.  Remember how you hated it when you were pushed?  Step back and look at what you're doing_.  

"Do you see anything interesting," he asked.

"Hmm.  I think so.  A couple of possibilities maybe, but nothing is truly _speaking_ to me."

_Maybe it's because you're meant to be with me_.  "You'll find something.  One thing I learned quickly about you, Larkin, is that you're tenacious."

Unceremoniously, she threw the guide and her ink pen in the back seat.  "You got that right."  She sighed a little before she took his hand in hers.  "I don't want you to think that I'm not considering moving in with you, but I just want to keep my possibilities open.  I don't want to…to push."

He smiled a little, finally understanding.  "Selena, if anyone is pushing, it's probably me.  You're not pushing and you don't have to be afraid.  I'm not just going through the motions.  I never have where you're concerned.  I love you, Selena, and I want you to live with me.  You don't have to make any decisions now."

"Yes I do," she said.  "I want to, I truly do."  She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it very briefly.  "I get paranoid sometimes, because this is one of the most serious relationships I've ever had, and the first one I've had long distance."

He took his eyes off the road long enough to smile down at her.  "Paranoia seems to be a theme among us lately.  Don't ever think you're pushing, Selena.  You're not.  You haven't.  _Ever_."

*  *  *

As Donovan and Larkin made their way toward his apartment, both of them noticed that the door to the Devere apartment was standing wide open.  They could both see inside it and noticed that Devere was on the phone, but the moment she saw the couple, she turned toward them, watching curiously as they walked onward.  Larkin was quite tempted to flip the funky woman the birdie, but she decided to behave.  Donovan had to deal with her and when she moved in, she would have to deal with her as well.  _Don't be a child, Jane.  Just walk on and ignore her_.  As if sensing what she was thinking, Donovan dragged her forward toward the apartment, dug for his keys, and stuck the door key into its lock.  Before he opened the door, Larkin grabbed his hand.  He stopped at the gentle tugging motion.  He knew what she wanted to do, but he wouldn't have her going back there.  Donovan turned and gazed down at her.  Her beautiful face was so open and earnest.  She was clearly telling him what she wanted to do.  He tugged on her hand with the intention of walking her into the apartment.  However, when his eyes met hers, all he could think about for a moment was kissing her.  It was a strange thought, especially since he wanted to get her inside before Devere noticed them.  Without a thought as to what his motivation was, he leaned down and kissed her.  The moment his lips touched hers, the kiss deepened and became heated.  His hands immediately went down to cup her buttocks, and as was custom, she moved and wrapped her legs around him.  He pushed her into the wall just outside his apartment door.  At the sound of the 'thud' Larkin's body made, someone crept out into the hallway and spied the couple.  _Oh shit, would you look at this?  _Larkin sighed against Donovan's lips as his hands cupped her breasts, kneading them, squeezing them ever so gently.  As soon as he broke the kiss, his lips moved down to her throat and she turned her head ever so slightly to give him access.  It was at that time she noticed the Devere woman standing in the hallway, gazing at them curiously.  Larkin smiled sweetly her way.  _Uh huh, look here, baby.  Just look.  That's all you can ever do is look._  Donovan's hands began to release the buttons on her blouse and as soon as her flesh was exposed, he stopped almost abruptly and looked down at her.  

"I think we got a little carried away," he whispered down at her, thinking that she was the only one who could hear him.

"I think you did," Devere said from down the hall.  "Take it inside, won't you?"

Larkin laughed a little and smiled Devere's way again.  "Oh, honey, we intend to."

Instead of lowering her to her feet, Donovan carried Larkin inside and set her body down, closing the door behind them.  Larkin was still looking toward the door [her blouse gaping wide open].  A bit on the forceful side, he guided her body away from the door.  He actually didn't want her to start anything with Devere, and knowing Larkin, she would.  She wasn't a jealous type; it was that she didn't take kindly to folks getting in her face.  She didn't allow shit like that to slide past her, even when she first met him.  She was contemplating the hell out of approaching the neighbor just to start up a fairly innocent conversation.  She had actually made moves toward doing exactly that, but Donovan grabbed her arm.

"Uh uh, Selena, don't try it."

She looked up at him.  "Come on, Frank, I'm just curious.  I could tell her I'm moving in and it's the truth.  I just want to talk to her."

"No, Selena, leave it alone," he said, "It's not important."

"It is to me.  Come on, Frank, let me go."

He drew her in an embrace and pulled her close against him.  "No."

She looked up at him, her jaw determined and her left eye squinting.  He had grown familiar with what it meant.  Look out.  Selena Jane was about to blow.  "_No_?  And how do you think you'll stop me?"

"I have my ways," he said with a smug little smile.

"I'll bet you do."

He drew away from her far enough to take hold of her hand.  Tugging on it gently, he turned toward her, "Let's go.  I can show you a couple of ways right now."

She put on the brakes.  "Wait a minute.  Why can't you show me in here for a switch?  Don't you like to experiment?  Have you made love to me on your couch?"

"I'm not sure," he said, "but I like the way you think."  Wickedly, she smiled his way and took her hand out of his.  He watched as she opened the door a crack.  "Selena, what the hell are you doing?"

"Wanna get kinky?  Let's make love with the door open, let's give her something to _really_ hear and look at," she said as she discarded her blouse.

Stunned, he watched her in silence.  She was actually going to do it.  He moved past her and closed the door, locking it behind him.  He came up to her from behind.  "I'll make love to you on the couch or the floor, in the shower or the car, on the roof or whatever.  With the door open, I don't think so.  I perform for one person in the audience, and that's you.  More than likely, we would entertain the entire building, and the encores might go on and on and on."

She sighed in mock aggravation.  "You are so rigid, Frank Donovan."

"That I am," he stated as he slid his fingers under her bra straps, "That…I…am." 

**____________________**

**To be continued…**               


	7. A Wrench in the Gears

A WRENCH IN THE GEARS

_Three in the morning and I cannot sleep_, Larkin thought as she sat in her now favorite chair in front of the window in Donovan's bedroom.  She knew what was keeping her awake just as she knew the inevitability she would have to face.  Today was her last day with Donovan and her flight was scheduled to leave Chicago that night.  She hated the thought of leaving, but she knew she had no choice.  Behind her in bed, Donovan slept soundly, but he had some trouble earlier.  Some people found escape in sleep while others couldn't sleep unless smacked on the head with a hammer.  She was one of those in that latter category.  She drew her legs up against her body and wrapped her arms around them.  Larkin felt ill at ease, as much as she felt in D.C. when she saw Greene staring at her across her desk.  After their encounter with Devere two weeks ago, they hadn't had any others.  She had apparently stayed in her corner and allowed them to live uninterrupted.  Hopefully, Devere had gotten the message and would stop visually stalking her lover.  _Everything goes back to Donovan.  Everything goes back to the fact that you're leaving him.  _Larkin groaned a little.  God.  November seemed so far away.  She felt a somewhat familiar sensation building in her stomach:  nausea.  Before the day was through, she'd likely pray to the Toilet God a few times.  It was almost a never-ending cycle when one or the other of them left.  She'd stay in the bathroom a good thirty minutes kneeling before the toilet as if it were a sacred temple.  However, this morning, the nausea didn't necessarily seem settled in her upper abdomen where she supposed her ulcer was [_Jane, you are such a hypochondriac_].  Whatever the case, she was prepared for it.  She moved her eyes over to the bed and watched Donovan's unmoving body.  For a moment, she was tempted to climb back into bed and wrap herself around him.  This would be her last night with him for a couple of weeks and she wanted it to last as long as possible.  However, her movements would likely awaken him, and he needed all the sleep he could get.  He had been working nearly every day during their time together.  He had managed to thwart plans to ship him out, but Larkin never felt comfortable forcing Donovan to shirk his duties.  _Jane, you know what you should do, so why don't you just do it?_  Yes.  Why didn't she?  She could stay here.  Fuck D.C.  Fuck the transfer.  She could have a friend ship her stuff out to her.  She didn't have to go anywhere, now did she?  Secure in her decision, her tense body began to relax bit by bit, and she knew she'd go to sleep before she knew it.  However, before she could close her eyes, she saw Donovan turn over before he sat up.  He could almost see the expression on his face.  He was probably blinking owlishly at her, wondering why in the hell she wasn't in bed.  She started to speak, but Donovan rose before one word left her mouth.  She moved a little to give him room to lean on the arm of the chair.

"Are you okay," he asked.  It was a stupid question.  Neither of them was okay, not really.

She nodded and smiled.  "I'm fine.  I'm not going back.  I'm staying here with you and someone back there can send my shit to me.  I can't stand this separation anymore.  Each time I leave you, it gets harder and harder to walk away.  Fuck the transfer, I can find another job.  I just feel like I need to be here _now_, not in November."

"Selena, you don't realize how much that would thrill me, but both of us know you can't do that.  You have a function, a life, and I wouldn't ask you to give it up any more than you would ask me.  Hold on, Selena, it's not that much time.  We've been doing this for a very long time now, and we're almost there.  The closer we come to that day, the more eager we both are to make that distance a thing of the past.  Think about it, you know in your heart that you cannot stay right now.  If you stayed, you might come to regret that decision and sometimes regret leads to resentment."

"Frank, I'd never resent you…I'd…"

He held up his hand.  "Wait, Selena.  I know how you feel.  I'd be lying if I didn't say the same thoughts have entered my mind more than once, but it's because I miss you so damn much, and I know you miss me, but we're almost there, and it's not like we won't see each other until November."

She sighed.  "Okay," she said.  "God, I hate sounding so melodramatic and insecure, Frank, but it's driving me nuts.  I just want to scrap it all sometimes, crawl into bed with you, and forget everything about D.C., my life there, and my job.  I know you're right, but it doesn't mean I have to like it, because I don't.  I love you, Frank, I'm just tired.  I'm tired and ready to get settled."

He stood and presented his hand to her.  "I know it, because I feel the same.  Take my hand, Selena, and come to bed." 

Without another word, she did as he instructed and allowed him to lead her to the bed.  She climbed in first and he slid in beside her.  Immediately, she went into his embrace and lay as close to him as was humanly possible.  She loved the warmth of his body, his smell, touch, and taste, and she absolutely couldn't believe how quickly she had grown so very accustomed to it.  She wanted to stay right now, didn't want to wait, but she knew she had to, knew that what he was telling her was nothing but the truth.  Donovan had closed his eyes and settled in comfortably beside her, but before drifting off to sleep, Larkin shifted.  He almost spoke her name, but she didn't quite let him.  She pressed her lips to his, nearly laying her body entirely on top of him.  His hand went into the back of her hair to hold her in place.  God.  He was so close to biting his tongue and telling her he wanted her to stay.  Screw it.  He was a selfish bastard and didn't want to see her leave.  He didn't want to wait until November.  However, he couldn't do that to her, couldn't try to influence her to meet his own selfish need.  He broke the kiss and she leaned her body up just a little.  A small smile played on her lips.  She could see what he was feeling written in his eyes.  He didn't have to utter a word.  He wanted her to stay as much as she wanted to, but he would never admit it vocally, not in his lifetime.  He was quite the selfless beast.  She wanted to kiss him again, wanted to progress their kiss into a full-blown lovemaking session, but she didn't act on that impulse.  Instead, she kissed his chest gently and then lay her head down.  She wanted his heartbeat to lull her to sleep, but wasn't entirely sure if she would actually go to sleep at all.

A few hours later, Larkin was up and wide-awake.  As she expected, she couldn't fall asleep, no matter how comfortable she'd settled in next to Donovan, and also as she expected, she was physically sick to her stomach.  _Here it goes again_.  She didn't stray far from the toilet, but she didn't exactly throw up.  Her queasy stomach simply picked and poked at her as if teasing her mercilessly.  What could she do?  She couldn't sleep, she couldn't sit still, and she felt like shit.  She wanted to pack her things and leave before Donovan awoke, but at the same time, she wanted to see him one last time before she boarded the plane.  Sighing heavily, she went to Donovan's closet and dug out her suitcase.  She packed all her things except for the change of clothes she needed for the trip back to D.C.  When that task was accomplished, she slipped out of Donovan's shirt and entered the bathroom.  She would leave as soon as she showered.  Larkin didn't know if she could stand being near Donovan at the airport without losing her mind.  

Donovan awoke when he noticed Larkin's absence in bed.  He sat up and listened as the shower made its endless hissing noise.  She had closed the bathroom door, but there was enough light in the room for him to make out her suitcase.  He slid out of bed and padded over to it.  She had packed her things and gathered everything together as if she was making ready to leave him.  He shook his head and sighed a little.  She had obviously been making plans to leave before he awakened.  Larkin had never pulled that stunt before and he knew well why she was pulling it now.  He knew she realized that he felt the exact same way.  He entered the bathroom and listened to the sharp intake of breath issuing from Larkin as soon as he opened the shower door.  It was a look a rabbit often has when it's cornered:  _Oh shit, I'm caught now_.  He slid in behind her, drawing her wet body away from the spray of water and pulling it toward his.  His lips found the soft flesh at the side of her neck.

"You were going to walk out," he asked against her neck.  "You were going to sneak out so I wouldn't take you to the airport, weren't you?"

She nodded.  "Yeah, I was.  I'm sorry, Frank, I didn't intend to run, it's just that it's painful, and I…"

"No," he said, "You don't have to explain anything to me, I understand, but I don't want to miss a minute, Selena."

Larkin turned within his embrace and as soon as his lips met hers, she assumed her ever so customary position:  legs around his waist, her back against the wall.  He kissed her deeply, his tongue probing and tasting, his mouth taking her breath and giving her his.  Their lips parted while the two paused for breath and he showered little nibbling bites along her neck and shoulder.  His lips reached her ear, almost up against it, and his heated breath fanned her skin.  For a moment, she thought he would back away from her, but she didn't want him to move.  She wanted him to make love to her until the water turned cold.  

"Are you ready for me," he asked, his voice falling right into her ear.  He wanted her badly, and couldn't tolerate any matter of foreplay, not this time.

She was thrilled to hear his question, thrilled to know he intended to do exactly what she wanted.  "Yes," she sighed, "Oh yes."

"I love you, Selena, always, despite anything."

*  *  *

Grant was going nuts in her cramped living space.  She couldn't stand to be inside a moment longer.  She had to get out on the street and poke around.  Perhaps she would run into her quarry, hoping like hell to be recognized but not recognized at the same time.  She'd actually had a few confrontations here and there with absolutely no flashes of recognition.  Yet, there had been an air of familiarity on the quarry's part, hadn't there?  Whatever.  It mattered very little.  She was on a roll right now and nothing could break her stride.  In the next few weeks, she had to move quickly and get the show on the road.  Grant laughed a little to herself.  Hadn't she thought that already?  She had a few more elements to prepare before a full on strike, and knew that soon enough, face-to-face contact was close to happening.  There was a lot Martel owed to her, to _others_, and she intended to make him pay back every damn dime.  _You have no idea what you started, Martel.  No idea at all.  _Larkin was a secondary player in the game, but there was enough ire directed toward her as well.  Larkin was nothing more than a piece of ass for Martel.  Soon enough, she figured he'd dump her.  Martel wasn't such a nice guy back in the day.  He often took advantage of women repeatedly and one in particular.  She often wondered if Martel still remembered her, or remembered what he had done to her.  Of course, it wasn't unusual in the CIA for agents to seduce someone in order to get information, but to do what Martel did…  It made her angrier and angrier the longer she thought about it.  She hated him more as each second passed.  _My face fell apart and I'll never look the same.  You ruined so many lives.  I'd like to slice off your dick and feed your balls to Larkin while she watches you bleed to death, you pig._

*  *  *

Donovan returned to the apartment after leaving Larkin at the airport.  He felt badly about leaving her the way he did.  She kept complaining about a stomachache and she looked as white as a sheet, but she insisted that he go before her flight was called.  He did it, but grudgingly.  The moment he entered the apartment, he turned on the television and sat back on the couch.  He was trying desperately to get his mind off Larkin, but it was difficult.  He groaned when he realized that the president was having some stupid state of the union thing and he was flanked by several of his aides, senate pages, etc.  He had lost interest almost immediately and closed his eyes.  Perhaps a short nap would help.  The droning voice of the president went on and on, stopping briefly to introduce some head honcho presidential aide:  _I give the floor now to Ellen Landry-Cole._  Donovan's eyes came open almost as abruptly as a set of window shades.  Ellen Landry-Cole.  How the hell long had it been since he heard that name?  He didn't want to see her or hear her voice, not after what he did to her.  He turned off the television and leaned back again.  Damn it.  Damn her.  Damn the fucking CIA.  At first, he thought he wouldn't fall asleep, but while he contemplated doing it, his eyes closed again and he was off to dream land.

*  *  *

Always having an identity crisis, Frank Martel became Tony Miles for six months.  His objective, according to his lead op, was to befriend a state department secretary to find her employer's files.  Apparently, Mr. State Department Guy was doing something naughty.  The mission sounded easy enough and to the young man, he didn't understand why the assignment would have to stretch so long.  However, it was never as easy as he thought.  It was difficult 'befriending' the mousy secretary, because she wouldn't say three words to anyone unless she was approached.  As Tony, Martel's main job [believe it or not] was to change the drinks daily in the damn vending machines.  How stupid was that?  Martel had wanted an exciting role in the state department, perhaps one with more excitement and daring.  Hell, the worse that could happen to him with this cover was that he'd get bonked on the head with a can of soda pop.  Anyway, he was chosen for that particular job because Ellen Landry often stayed in the break room during her breaks and at lunch.  She didn't have many friends and never ate with anyone.  Ellen was a loner.

_The first time Martel encountered Ellen, he noticed that she wasn't a bad looking sort.  She was a little on the thin side and tall, but she lacked the two things he liked most on a woman:  long hair and big tits.  Her hair was cut very short and was a mousy brown color.  Well, the woman wasn't exactly what he was here for.  He was here to befriend her only and get to the files.  Open and shut.  Cut and dried.  Regardless of his attempts at conversation, Ellen wouldn't say more than two words to him.  He finally understood why the mission would span six months.  It would take that long to get the girl to talk to him.  How many days passed before Ellen spoke to him?  Five?  Ten?  Actually, it took more of an icebreaker to get her to speak to him.  He did something stupid [of course on purpose] and she came to his aid.  The poor guy was bleeding all over the place.  Ellen being the mother henning type immediately took over and doctored his hand.  He hit pay dirt that day and they began a tentative friendship.  Eventually, she was bringing him lunch and they'd sit together and shoot the shit for a while.  However, the relationship wasn't moving fast enough to suit Martel's lead op.  It was taking too damn long to get the files.  He would never forget the next set of orders.  **You have to intensify the relationship, Martel.  At this stage, Landry doesn't trust you enough to let you have her keys to the file cabinets.**__Martel's eyes grew large in disbelief.  They wanted him to **sleep** with this woman?  _

_Oh hell no.  Frank Martel was no damn gigolo.  However, he was not so politely informed that this kind of thing happened on a daily basis.  He could either do the job or get the fuck out.  He chose to do the job, but thought that he could do something different to get the keys without taking this woman to bed.  Of course, it never worked that easily for Martel.  If there were a pile of dog shit in the grass, Martel would step in it.  Things like that just happened to him.  He went his own way, hoping that their relationship would not have to go to that level.  He didn't like the idea of seducing a woman to complete a job.  Martel was no angel, had never claimed to be one, but he did have a heart and a conscience.  He couldn't put this woman through hell.  He did, though.  He waited four or five weeks before making a move.  When he asked Ellen out on a date, she was stunned but seemed happy.  He prayed that she wouldn't accept, but she did.  From that day forward, Martel stepped steadily in all kinds of dog shit.  In fact, he was immersed to his knees in it after a couple of months._

_It had been Ellen's idea to go to bed the first time.  Martel had issues with it, but he remembered his orders and he was duty bound to follow them.  He had never had to fake such emotion in his life [not until years later when he met Paige Harrison] and it was the most horrid feeling that had ever consumed him.  He had sex with Ellen that night and on subsequent nights after that for weeks on end.  By the third or fourth month, it had begun to wear on Martel's nerves.  He didn't like himself much anymore.  Ellen had grown exceedingly attached to him, told him she loved him on a nightly basis, and had even begun discussing a time for him to meet her parents.  It was getting too far too fast and he hated it.  It went on and on until Ellen Landry was wrapped around his little finger.  Whenever he poked into her job, she told him everything, even her suspicions of her boss' behavior.  She knew of the files, knew where he kept them, and why.  Basically, she was incriminating herself to her eyeballs.  Martel couldn't stop her, couldn't say anything.  Yup.  He stepped in yet another pile of dog shit._

_Night after night of fucking her, night after night of hating himself each time he did it, the day came when he had access to Ellen's keys.  She kept her file cabinet keys on her key ring.  She trusted him enough to allow him to stay in her apartment for days on end.  She never gave it a second thought.  There came a day when he'd had enough.  It was time to move and get on with it.  He took the tiny keys off the ring, plus he scrounged her office door key.  He never looked back, never spoke to her again.  The last time he saw her was on the evening news.  She was standing back and watching as her employer was taken away in handcuffs.  He often wondered what went through her mind when she saw her key ring.  Mousy Ellen was, dumb she was not.  He wanted to apologize to her and had wanted to do it every day of his life, but he was never allowed access.  **This is your job, Agent Martel; this is what you do**.  The only thing Martel could do for Ellen was to ensure that she wasn't implicated in the deeds of her boss.  After all, she wasn't a criminal; she had basically gotten sucked into it.  Be that as it may, she was still interrogated mercilessly.  He had stood watch over one such interrogation and hated himself even more.  Ellen Landry had been hurt deeply, scarred, and he would never put himself in such a position again.  He would never forgive himself.  He went through his deprogramming and was then shipped off to do something else.  Columbia.  He was going to fucking South America.  It had to be better than this._

*  *  *

The sound of the phone ringing brought Donovan out of his deep sleep.  _What the hell time is it?_  It was late and he hadn't been napping at all, he'd been _sleeping_.  Without thinking, he reached over and answered the phone, immediately knowing it was Larkin.  During the entire conversation, the image of Ellen Landry played in the back of his mind.  What he wouldn't give if he had another chance to speak to her face-to-face.  He ached to apologize, to make it right.  The man he was then was not the one he was now.  Even with Paige, he'd tried to make atonement, but she wanted no part of him.  

"Frank, are you okay," Larkin finally asked.  "You sound a little…messed up," she said.

_Baby, you have no idea_.  "Just thinking about the past.  Perhaps we'll talk about it.  I need to tell you, to get it out."

Larkin didn't know everything that went on with the CIA, but she knew it wasn't exactly a tea party.  "Okay.  Any time.  I'm always here for you."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose.  Time to eat a dozen more aspirin.  "I know and I love you for that.  Go to bed, Selena, you sound exhausted."

"I'm changing for bed right now.  Jet lag sucks.  I love you, too."  

_Click_.  No goodbyes.  Never.  They wouldn't have it any other way.  When he thought of some of the things he had done in the name of the CIA, it made him shudder.  Why did he suddenly feel as if he could only share those experiences with his Selena?  Groaning, he stood and stepped into the kitchen to dig up his aspirin.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	8. Mugging

MUGGING

Donovan had never been so pissed off and angry in his life.  In a two-week span he was supposed to have spent with Larkin in D.C., he had had to beach himself due to a wickedly strange fog that enveloped the entire city.  When his flight was canceled, the upper brassholes had sent down a priority case, and he and the team had had to leave the country the moment the fog lifted.  He had called Larkin with a hasty apology, but she said she understood, and she did, but he still felt like shit.  The end of October was bust.  Neither of them could visit again until she made her move at the last of November.  As he dragged his luggage into the apartment, he left it out beside the couch.  He had no desire to unpack today, not after the long ass flight he'd been forced to endure.  He needed to take a nap.  However, before he passed out completely, he wanted to call Larkin first and let her know he had gotten home safe and sound.  When he called her office, the receptionist told him that she had called in sick.  He found that odd.  He hadn't recalled one time that she'd called in sick throughout the duration of their relationship.  It worried him.  Forgetting the flight, his jet lag, and the enormous mound of paperwork awaiting him at the nest, he called Larkin's phone number.  It rang almost five times before she picked it up.  Her voice sounded thick and fogged with sleep.

"Selena?  Are you okay?  They said you called in sick," he said.

"Oh, hi, Frank," she said.  "Yeah, I called in, kind of had to.  Been a little sick and draggy lately.  Somebody at work has the flu and she came to work and spread the joy around.  I suppose it was my turn to experience it first hand.  I'll be fine.  How are you?  I miss you."

He sighed a little.  She didn't sound fine.  Her voice was low and exhausted.  "I miss you, too," he said.  "I hate it that I can't see you.  I just walked through the front door, but there's no way I'm setting foot inside the nest today."  He listened to her on the other end of the line.  She yawned a little and said 'hmm mmm.'  "Selena?  Are you with me?"

"Yeah, sorry, babe.  I was drifting; I'm just a little tired."

_A little?  _"I think there's something going on, Selena, maybe more serious than the flu.  Have you seen a doctor?"

"What?  A doctor?  No, not for the flu.  In a couple of days, I'll be back on my feet jumping around."  She could hear him trying to say something, trying to protest.  "Jesus Frank, I don't need a doctor.  Enough about my flu.  Where did you go?  What did you do?  Did you see any dancing girls?"

"Nice subject change, Selena," he said lightly.

*  *  *

Frank Donovan [whom Grant would always think of as Chase Martel] was not the only person who had seen Ellen Landry-Cole on television.  Grant had seen her as well.  Unbeknownst to Martel, she had a direct tie to Ellen as well.  In fact, the two women were first cousins.  They had grown up together and were about the same age.  Of course, Grant was the favored of the two.  She was the 'pretty' one; the one everyone thought would succeed.  Ellen was overshadowed by her much prettier cousin and basically idolized her.  Grant being the bitch that she was might have taken advantage of that idolatry, but she didn't.  Instead, she took her odd duck cousin under her wing.  Before long, they were completely inseparable.  Ellen was the only member of the family Grant trusted and loved.  She loved her so much that she helped Ellen get her swank job at the state department.  Actually, if the truth were known, she was fucking one of the higher ups at the time and had begged him to hire her cousin.  She thought it would bring Elle out of her shell somewhat and introduce her to more people.  Her pitiful cousin was so shy; she couldn't _look_ at a man, much less talk to one.  Elle didn't want to take the job, of course, but Grant pushed her.

Elle had worked at the office for quite some time before she finally began talking about her co-workers.  Grant thought her cousin was making some progress.  She nearly fell over when Elle began to talk about a man she had met, Tony Miles.  She went on and on about how handsome he was, how talkative.  She told Grant she was completely too shy to speak to him.  What would a guy like that want with her?  Grant pushed it, _encouraged _it.  _Go for it, cuz.  From the sound of it, he's interested in you.  Reel him in_.  Grant couldn't remember how long it had taken for the guy to ask her out and for Elle to accept the invitation.  On the day of the 'big' question, Elle had nearly floated over to Grant's apartment and told her what happened.  She wanted to impress this man, because a prettier face could easily sway a guy like him.  She inherently knew that she wasn't exactly the type of girl he went for, but she didn't want to turn him off right away.  Besides, he had to find something he liked about her.  If not, why would he bother asking her out at all?  Grant helped Elle pick out the perfect outfit and had even helped with her hair and make up.  When Elle left to meet the dreamboat, Grant stayed up and waited for her to come home.  Later, she'd dish with her cousin.  She was happy that the girl had found a man.  It wasn't an everyday thing.  Hell, even _she _didn't have a man at the moment.

Of course as soon as Ellen came home, she was floating even more.  She went on and on about her date, how Tony looked, the way he complimented her, the way he touched her hand, and the goodnight kiss at the door.  She talked of the kiss most of all, how his full lips nearly consumed hers, and then she mentioned something that tweaked Grant the slightest bit.  She wouldn't put two and two together for a while, but the words needled her somehow.  While Ellen had been discussing Tony's kiss, she made mention of his lips [other than their fullness], and said his lower was fuller than his upper.  She had no idea why that particular phrase bothered her, but she quickly pushed it out of her mind.  It mattered very little.  She simply listened and smiled while her cousin spouted her happiness.  _Girl's already half in love.  Man oh man.  I hope this works out.  If it doesn't, she'll go nuts._  Ellen floated off to bed that night with a gigantic smile on her face.  It was a smile that would remain plastered there for many, many weeks to come, and Grant was there to take it all in stride.  For a selfish, heartless bitch, Grant was actually happy for her cousin, _genuinely_ happy.

After several weeks of dating this Tony fellow, Ellen came to Grant's apartment nearly floating on air yet again.  At first, she assumed that the guy had asked her to marry him or something.  However, he had done the next best thing.  They'd slept together for the first time.  Elle was no virgin, of course, but she had never had a man as gorgeous as Tony.  Grant often asked to meet this Adonis, but Elle always said Tony was too shy to meet anyone in her family.  She found it odd.  _A man who hits on a woman while he's stocking soda machines is too shy to meet Ellen's family?  What's wrong with this picture?_  Again, she shrugged this thought off and allowed Ellen to be happy.  

It abruptly changed, nearly all at once, when Ellen's boss was taken into custody for something stupid.  It had happened so long ago that Grant couldn't remember exactly what it was anymore.  Anyway, Ellen came to her cousin a shattered mess.  Apparently, Tony had been seducing her for the state department to obtain access to her files.  'Tony' was an agent?  She had sat up with Ellen for two days while the girl cried her eyes out of her head over this bastard.  She swore right then that she'd get back at this fuck.  She'd make his life hell any way she could.  That night when Ellen calmed down, she left Grant's place, deciding to get drunk off her ass.  She went immediately to a bar, found a man, and went home with him.  She didn't quite remember what had transpired between them, but when she awoke the next morning, she was in a strange man's bed.  Her first thought was to get the hell out of there, but her pain was still immense.  Instead, she rose out of bed, found the guy's booze and drank herself drunk once again.  After that, there was a string of men in and out of her bed.  Six weeks later, she found herself alone and pregnant.

Of course, as soon as she received the diagnosis, she went to her cousin and cried on her shoulder.  Knowing that the baby did not belong to Tony [he refused to touch her without a condom], she told Grant it did anyway.  Who the hell would ever know anyway?  She'd never see Tony again.  However, she was wrong about that.  She and Grant had attended some weird vice-presidential mixer thing at the state department.  Despite Ellen's ties to her grubby boss, she had maintained her job, but was transferred to another division.  Yet, she was still part of the fold.  By that time, Ellen had just begun to show.  She and Grant moved through the throngs of people when Ellen's sharp eyes identified a particularly familiar looking man standing off to himself, looking as if he'd rather have nails driven into his eyes than attend the party.  He was somehow different.  When she had known him, his hair was long, past his shoulders, and always worn tied back with a strip of rawhide.  Occasionally, he wore a funky choker of some kind made out of bone or porcupine quills.  He was always clean-shaven.  Tony had passed himself off as half Italian, half Sioux Indian, but she had never bought that.  Tonight, his hair was short, brutally so, and he had a face framing beard and mustache.  He was decked out in a suit.  There weren't many agents lingering about that looked like he.  If he were in a uniform…  Despite the noise, Grant had heard Ellen's gasp and then her words:  _That's the guy_!  Grant looked up in the direction that Ellen had pointed and she nearly choked on her drink.  F. Chase Martel!  She had the greatest urge to approach the son-of-a-bitch and bust his fucking balls.  How dare the fuck use Ellen, knock her up, and then act as if nothing happened.  Almost immediately, Grant wanted to approach Martel and demand that he do right by her cousin.  However, Ellen wouldn't allow her to speak to the man.  _Let it go, Kira.  It's over and I'm over him.  It's okay; I'm not keeping the baby anyway_.  Grant honored Ellen's wishes, but she'd never lose her focus on Chase Martel.  How dare he go on with life as if nothing happened while he had a bastard child lingering about somewhere?  Ellen gave up the baby and it was the end of that, but Grant had never forgotten what the fuck did to her cousin.  A fuck he always was to Ellen, to her, and to everybody.  Ellen never mentioned Tony again, and wouldn't hear of getting back at him.  In fact, Ellen had all but stopped communicating with Grant.  She hadn't heard from Elle in a few years.

*  *  *

Donovan sat in his living room and stared at the phone.  It had been quite a few hours since he last spoke to Larkin and he was a little worried about her.  _Should I call again or leave it alone_?  She had been so out of sorts when they were on the phone earlier, but she had also seemed annoyed when he kept asking and then asking again if she was okay.  It was the distance, he knew this.  If he could see her, lay his hands on her, he wouldn't worry so much.  _Fuck it_.  He picked up the phone and dialed her home number.  He'd suffer whatever consequences she wished to dole out.  Patiently, Donovan listened to three or four rings before the machine picked up.  However, Larkin's voice came over the line, swearing, as she cut off the answering machine.

"Who is it," she whined, "I was sleeping so deeply."

Was she serious?  Kidding?  She had Caller ID and would immediately know it was him on the other end of the line.  "Selena?"

"Oh," she said through a yawn, "hello again, Frank.  Is something wrong?"

"No," he said, "I'm calling to see if you're okay.  When we spoke earlier, you sounded as if you were fading fast."

She sighed, annoyed now.  "Oh, Jesus, Frank.  You're out of your mind.  I told you.  I have the flu, I need my rest, and I will be fine," she snapped.  "How can I recover if you're on the damn phone annoying the crap out of me?"  Donovan furrowed his brow in confusion.  Where was the ire coming from?  Before he could speak, her voice came back on the line.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you.  I get a little bitchy when I'm ill."

"It's okay," he said, "I think we're both a little edgy."

"Oh God," she moaned, "Babe, I forgot."

For a moment, Donovan had no earthly idea what the hell she was talking about.  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what it was she had forgotten.  However, his eyes wondered to the dial of his watch for an unknown reason.  He noted the date.  October 26.  It was a day he thought he'd never forget in his life, but somehow, he had shoved it back.  At any other time, it might have hurt him deeply, might have made him feel guilty, but not now.  He truly and thoroughly loved this woman on the other end of the line, was truly and thoroughly _consumed_ by her.  _Taryn, I will never forget you, not as long as I live, but it doesn't hurt as much…and I feel as if it's okay to let go.  _"No, Selena, I'm not edgy because of that.  I'm edgy because I miss you so much, but I've probably said that a dozen or more times already tonight.  It's driving me fairly crazy if you want the honest truth.  I don't mean to annoy you, I can't stop thinking about you."

She sighed a little, this time it was a touched sound.  "Me either.  God, a few more weeks.  Seems so long."

"It does," he said, agreeing.  "I'll hang up and let you rest.  You sound as if you need it."  He chuckled a little.  "No more annoying calls from me."

"Frank, you don't annoy me, not typically," she said with a laugh.  "You get your rest, too.  You sound almost as bad as I do."  She paused for a moment.  "Uh, I need to go now, because I'm about to do something unladylike.  Love you."  _Click_.    

Donovan hung up the phone, staring at it a moment after he did it.  He stood and sauntered over to his kitchen.  He dug out a bottle of wine and a glass.  Perhaps a couple of glasses of wine would settle him and help him sleep.  As it was going, he didn't think he'd fall asleep.  He drank his first glass of wine fairly quickly and then poured another.  The quicker he drank it, the faster it started working on him.  He had the glass halfway drained when he heard a funny noise in the hallway.  It was more of the thumping and thudding that he'd heard when the Devere siblings moved in a few doors down.  At first, he ignored it.  He had learned to ignore the weird Devere family in the last few weeks.  Since Larkin hadn't been around, Devere's eyes had begun to wander his way again.  _Never in a million years_, he thought.  The noise came again, this time, louder.  At that point, he heard the unmistakable sound of a cry.  He wasn't as concerned as he was pissed off.  It was time to make his neighbors aware that adults didn't party like fucking children.

When he ripped the door open, he was stunned at the scene before him.  Someone had Devere out in the hallway roughing her up.  His training taking over, Donovan went to the man on Devere and he grabbed the back of his coat.  The perp turned around and swung out, but Donovan quickly blocked the hit.  At that moment, Devere finally slipped into her apartment and ran for the phone.  Donovan tried to subdue the man, but he broke away and ran down the hallway.  Of course, he wasn't one to give up very easily, and Donovan gave chase.  Once they made it out to the main lobby, the man was lost in the crowds coming in and going out.  Snarling a little, Donovan turned and went back toward his floor.  When he reached the hallway, he noticed that Devere had left her door wide open and her brother was conveniently missing.  He listened to Devere's husky whispers to emergency personnel, and from the distance, he heard the sound of sirens wailing.  Patiently, Donovan waited until she hung up before he spoke to her.  She knew he was standing outside and she kept holding up her finger in the universal gesture of 'one minute, please.'  He heard her say, 'my neighbor is with me now, thanks' before she hung up the phone.

When she stepped up to the doorway, he realized this was the closest he had ever been to her.  "Are you okay," he asked.

She sighed.  "I'm fine, thank you.  I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't came out.  He had his hands on…"  At that point, she burst into tears.

Donovan had no desire to comfort her, but he couldn't leave her standing out here crying.  He took the woman in his arms and she wrapped hers around his waist.  She cried until the police arrived to take her statement.  He wanted to slip away, but she mentioned to one of the cops that Donovan had tried to wrestle the bad guy.  It took approximately an hour and a half to get the statements taken.  When the police officers cleared away, Donovan lingered with Devere.

"I'll be on my way now," Donovan said.  "I think you'll be safe.  Where's your brother?"

Devere shrugged.  "Not sure, he's probably on a date or something.  I'll be fine.  Thank you again, Frank."

He nodded her way and excused himself.  She stood back and watched him as he walked to his apartment.  _The veneer is breaking.  I'll be inside your place before you know it.  Watch out, I'm coming in_.  

The next morning, Donovan entered the coffee shop.  Normally, he felt highly uncomfortable under Devere's bizarre gaze, but since her ordeal last night, he had made a grudging truce with her.  Of course, this truce was unspoken, but he would at least try to be civil to her.  Before he reached the counter, his double espresso was awaiting him…on the house, of course.

*  *  *

Although she still felt like shit, Larkin went in to work the next morning anyway.  Today, as other days, Greene was stationed at the receptionist's desk.  She hadn't spoken very often to the woman, because she gave her the creeps.  Ignoring her for the moment, Larkin unlocked her office door and entered.  She had tons of shit to get organized.  There were only a few more weeks left before she made the big move [thank God].  She rolled her yes [_good going, Jane_] when she realized that she had forgotten to grab a couple of crates from the supply room.  As much stuff as she had accumulated, she might need twenty or thirty of them.  She took two steps outside her office door and felt a little on the dizzy side.  Larkin stood still for a few seconds, recouping, and then took another step.  The room began to spin around her and little dots swam before her eyes.  She was certain she was going to conk right out on the damn floor.  However, before she could sink down, a strong hand took hold of her arm and steadied her.  As the wave of dizziness subsided, she focused her eyes on the face of Pellie Greene.

"You almost fell out on the floor," Greene commented lightly.  "You're very pale, Ms. Larkin.  If you were still sick, maybe you should have stayed home."

Larkin wanted to shrug away from the Greene woman's talons, but she was afraid she'd kiss the carpet if she did that.  "I was fine until just now and then it hit me again out of nowhere."  She took her arm out of Greene's hand.  "I think it's over now.  Thanks."  She continued to make progression toward the supply closet and another wave of dizziness struck her.  She held onto the doorframe.  _Jesus.  Whatever this is has to go away_.  Although she'd rather die than ask for help, she called behind her, "Ms. Greene, could you help me please?"

_Ooops, too late_, Larkin thought as she sunk to the floor.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	9. A Bitter Pill To Swallow

A BITTER PILL TO SWALLOW

Donovan was a bit on the perplexed side.  He had spent an entire evening on the phone with Larkin and then back off again.  She still sounded exhausted, and any time he tried to say something about it, she'd argue against him vehemently, swearing it was all in _his_ mind.  Five minutes later, she'd call back and apologize only to go into the same cycle again moments later.  The last call came around nine that evening and for that moment, Larkin had hung up on a solemn note.  She had begged off and said she needed to go to bed.  After hearing her tonight, he could not argue with that.  He simply wished she'd go to the doctor.  However, she wouldn't hear any of that, either.  Donovan was experiencing his own brand of mood swings as well.  He was upset and lonely on a near daily basis.  He knew Larkin felt the same.  Otherwise, why in the hell would she have such severe and erratic mood swings?  Donovan growled a little and brought his body slowly up to his feet.  It was Saturday night and the team was beached again.  There was absolutely nothing going on anywhere in town and he was spending another long forty-eight hours without his Selena.  _Fuck it.  _He tromped into the kitchen and pulled down a fresh bottle of red wine.  He dug around for a glass and filled it to the brim.  He drank it off within seconds and quickly poured another.  He knew it was a bad idea to drink so much wine so fast on an empty stomach, but right at the moment, he didn't give a ripe fuck about that either.  By his third glass of wine, his brain felt a little fuzzy, and he decided it was time to lay off it for a while.  He moved over to the couch and gazed at the phone.  He was so very tempted to call Larkin again.  If he did that, it would only set her off, and he didn't want her any angrier than she was the dozen or so times he'd already pissed her off.  _And just how did I do that?  _He honestly didn't know what he had done or said.  The most innocent shit set her off.  Donovan sighed heavily, quite tempted to have another glass of wine, but he fought it with everything he had in him.  If he drank to the point of inebriation, he would surely call Larkin and get sloppy on the phone.  _As if you're not sloppy already_.  He covered his eyes with his hands and leaned back on the couch.  Just as he was about passed out, he heard a soft knock on the door.  _Selena?  Oh, shut up, you damn puppy dog.  It's not Selena.  She's still in D.C., still having her whacked out mood swings_.  Whacked?  Since when did he use the term 'whacked?'  He laughed a little.  He was surely losing his mind.

He stood and approached the door, hesitating for half a minute before he grabbed the doorknob.  For some unknown reason, he nearly didn't open it.  Considering what would follow in the next two or three weeks, he often wished he had listened to that sixth sense.  However, he was halfway drunk and his judgment was shot to shit.  He opened the door and saw that his visitor was Bailey Devere.  He nearly laughed when he saw the bottle of red wine in her hands.  What in the hell did she think she was doing?  Although they had made a grudging truce, Donovan still didn't like being near her all that much.  

Biting his tongue against the rude comment that wanted to spill forth, he said, "Good evening, Bailey.  Do you need anything?"

"Not really," she said with that weird, vacant little smile of hers.  "I actually wanted to thank you for helping me the other night.  You look like a man who enjoys red wine.  Am I right?"  

He shrugged.  "I've been known to partake a time or two.  Actually, you don't have to thank me for anything."  She was standing out in the damn hallway waiting for him to invite her in, but he had no desire to do so.  However, what would it hurt to have a drink with the strange woman?  Perhaps if he did that, she'd finally give up and go away.  Otherwise, he would have to tattoo 'taken' on his right shoulder.  Shaking the thought away before he began laughing his ass off, he said, "Please come in, we'll have some wine."  _Fuck it.  _

Devere entered the apartment and he shut the door behind her.  "Show me where your glasses are and I'll open her up."

With little interest, Donovan pointed out his kitchen and then sat down on the couch again.  He buried his face into his hands for a brief moment while he listened to Devere beating and banging around in his kitchen.  He couldn't help thinking that letting her inside his apartment was the worst mistake he had ever made.  One glass of wine and then the bitch was history.  When she approached, he uncovered his face and looked up into hers.  There was something, _something_ behind her eyes, but he couldn't touch it.  What the hell?  He took his glass of wine and watched as Devere approached the couch and sat down.  It was awkward and he had no desire to converse with her.  He knew nothing about this woman and wanted to learn less.  Feeling the need to get rid of her as quickly as possible, he drained half the glass in one large gulp.  He noticed how she was watching him carefully, just barely sipping at hers.  He should have known at that moment that something wasn't right.  Yet, he finished off the wine anyway.  Immediately, his head began to feel fuzzy and he was disconnected from the real world.  He watched as she leaned toward him, pressing her lips against his.  It was the most disgusting thing he had ever experienced in his life. 

He pushed her away.  "Wait a second," he mumbled, his brain fogged, "This isn't happening.  Get…"  He had been in the middle of demanding that she get out, but the words didn't quite leave his mouth.  In fact, nothing left his mouth for several hours.

A sliver of light entered the bedroom like a sharp ass knife.  It buried itself to the hilt in Donovan's half-lidded eyes and he groaned against the intrusion.  His head thumped sickly and his mind felt detached, numb.  _What the hell happened to me last night?_  He couldn't remember anything past drinking two or three glasses of red wine.  How had he gotten to bed?  Hadn't he fallen asleep on the couch?  He didn't remember walking in here and couldn't recall getting undressed.  He tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't move.  It felt as if he had gained three hundred pounds.  Taking it inch by inch, he began to move a little in bed.  It was at that moment when he realized he wasn't alone.  Selena?  No.  The body was heavier than hers.  When Larkin was in bed with him, she was normally wrapped around him, but something was wrong.  Something was _very _wrong.  Struggling now, Donovan forced his body to cooperate with him.  He dragged himself up to a sitting position so he could get a good look at his bed partner.  _Oh dear God.  Please tell me I'm dreaming.  Please God; tell me I'm dreaming._  His swung his legs over the side of the bed, the movement causing pain to wrack his body and zing through his head.  He had not one stitch of clothing on and it was more than obvious what happened.  Yet, he didn't believe it, _couldn't_ believe it.  _Please God.  Please tell me I didn't fuck Bailey Devere_.  He wanted to get up and find his pajama bottoms, but he couldn't move any further than the bedside.  He groaned out loud when his eyes identified an open condom packet lying in the floor close to his side of the bed.  _No.  I won't believe it.  I wasn't that damn drunk.  I won't.  I refuse_.  After he sat for five or ten minutes, his head cleared the slightest bit.  He moved slowly toward his dresser drawer.  When he leaned over to pick out his pajama bottoms, his heavy head overbalanced him, and he nearly fell forward.  He reached out and tried to steady himself on the dresser.  However, it didn't work.  He fell backward on his ass and moaned pitifully.  Donovan dug out the item he needed and struggled into them.  For a moment, he sat in the middle of the floor with his legs crossed before him [_like Selena_].  _Oh God, Selena.  How am I **ever** going to explain this to her?  _What the hell was he doing?  What the hell was going on in his mind?  His hands ached to go around Devere's throat.  _You are the one who fucked up, Donovan.  You fuck up like this a lot, don't you?  At least with Paige, you had somewhat of an excuse.  What's your excuse now?_  He couldn't look toward the bed, even when he heard the woman coming awake.

Devere turned in the bed where she could get a good view of Donovan.  She smiled a little when she saw him sitting in the middle of the floor looking so very useless and helpless.  She couldn't wait for his reaction when he saw her.  She turned back around and swung her legs over the side of the bed.  She didn't know what to put on, because her clothing was folded neatly in the bathroom.  A grin came across her lips when she spied Donovan's shirt.  She wondered how he would react to her putting it on.  _Oh well, might as well put it on and see, huh?  _She snagged the shirt and tossed it over her head.  Standing up, she yawned and ran her hands through her hair.  She stood and stared at him, waiting for him to speak first.  There was no way she would say a word until he did.

"I want you out of here," he demanded in a low, severe tone.  "I'm giving you five minutes to get your shit and get out."  Each word he spoke rocked him, causing small explosions to go off in his head.  His system was shot, overloaded.  "_Get out_," he said through clenched teeth.

Unbelievably, she laughed.  "Okay, I'm going.  Before I leave, I just want you to know that you were wonderful.  I never came so hard in my life."  Laughing, she made her leave.

Donovan gritted his teeth together and began to shake.  If she hadn't gotten her things and left, he would have joyfully killed her.  He still didn't believe he had slept with her.  He wanted to go back to bed, but he couldn't stand up, and doubted that he could walk.  Giving up for the moment, he passed out on the floor, completely oblivious, not knowing anything for several more hours.  

The only thing that brought him out of his deep coma-like state was the shrill ring of the phone.  It had succeeded simply because the noise was splitting his head in two.  He couldn't stand it.  Blinking owlishly, Donovan glanced around at his surroundings.  It had gotten dark again.  He barely remembered his exchange with Devere earlier, but he clearly knew what had transpired.  _It didn't happen.  You didn't fuck this woman.  You didn't._  _You wouldn't do that to Selena.  _But he had cheated before, hadn't he?  He covered his eyes with his hands again and moaned pitifully, a litany of 'oh God, oh God, oh God.'  He had momentarily forgotten that the phone was ringing.  He hoped he could make it before it stopped.  Bringing his body unsteadily to its feet, he reached the bed and tried to snag the phone, but he was a few seconds too late.  Once the ringing stopped, he reached over and grabbed it, checking out the Caller ID.  Donovan's heart nearly stopped and then broke in a million pieces.  _Selena.  _How the hell could he talk to her?  What the hell would he tell her?

Closing his eyes and sighing heavily, he dialed her number and listened to her phone ringing.  _Please answer the phone.  Don't tell me you've gone to bed.  I need to hear your voice_.  When the phone was answered, he said, "Selena?  I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone."

"Frank?  What's wrong?  You sound messed up," she said.

_You have absolutely no idea_.  "I am, a little," he whispered.  He ran his hand over his face and settled it over his eyes again.  He would not talk to her about this over the phone.  "I need you, Selena.  I need you so much.  These last two weeks will be the worse two weeks of my life."

"Frank, you're scaring me.  What is it?  Talk to me," she demanded.

"I won't do it on the phone.  I must wait until you arrive."  She wanted to say something, to ask again if he was all right, but he didn't let her.  "Selena, don't say anything, don't ask.  If you do, I'll spill it right here and now, I won't do that to you.  I just want you to know that I love you.  I don't mean to scare you, but this is something that we need to talk about face-to-face."

"O-okay," she uttered, "I still don't like the sound of it, Frank.  I wish you would tell me," she implored.  "I'm going to spend two damn weeks worrying my ass off about you.  Baby, talk to me now, _please_."

"No," he said, "Don't worry, as ill as you've been, you don't need it.  You may only hear from me scantily, Selena, because there's a lot going on here, a lot I have to figure out and get settled.  I love you, just know that."  

Without waiting for her to say another word, he hung up.  He brought himself up to his feet and realized that his foggy head was going to allow him to walk across the room.  First, he would get dressed, and then he would find Bailey Devere.  He would demand that she tell him what the fuck she had done to him last night.  There was no way he would have willingly fucked her, no way at all.  She must have slipped something into the wine; it was the only explanation.  As he dressed slowly, a bit of his memory came back, specifically when Devere had come to his door.  He had been brooding, missing the hell out of Larkin, and had a pretty good buzz going from two or three glasses of wine he had had before she came over.  She had poured them each a glass from her bottle and then she tried to kiss him.  After that, everything was a blank.  _What the hell did the bitch do to him?_  Staggering a little, he stepped into his shoes and then entered the living room.  He hoped the damn bitch was home.  He would kill her if left to his own devices.  Still unsteady on his feet, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.  Gathering his strength and holding onto his rage, he made his way four doors down.  

Devere opened her door and smiled broadly.  "Came for another round," she asked.

Donovan didn't hesitate.  He took hold of the woman and shoved her into her apartment, making sure that he left the door wide open.  There was no way he was giving her an opportunity to yell rape.  He didn't immediately release her and she didn't try to escape.  "What the fuck did you put in that wine," he asked through clenched teeth.  "There is no way I would have fucked you without something.  There is no way I fucked you at all."

Her smile didn't fade one iota.  "Come on, Frank.  Don't be like all the other men in my life.  I thought you were different.  I didn't think you were the fuck and run type.  You fucked me and you fucked me good.  There was nothing in the wine; you just needed a piece of ass.  I did nothing, I was the receiver, and you were the one who fucked around on your woman.  Don't take it out on me because _you _fucked up."

He glowered down in her face, fixing her with an enraged, black look.  "I'll find out and when I do, so help me God, you'd better pack your shit and leave.  I'll make your life hell and believe me, I know how to do that.  Don't speak to me, look at me, or say my name again _ever_."  He released her suddenly and then wiped his hands on his jeans as if he had touched something dirty or slimy.

*  *  *

Larkin had been in bed when Donovan called earlier.  Actually, all her free time was spent in bed here lately.  As soon as he hung up on her, she sat up and stared at the phone.  There was something in his voice that worried her immensely.  She had never heard him so despondent, so full of pain.  What worsened it for her was the fact that he wouldn't talk to her, he was _protecting _her from something and it was pissing her right the hell off.  Could she let him suffer and stay here two more weeks as if nothing was happening?  Could she do that to the man she loved?  She shook her head.  Hell no.  At that moment, she made a decision and didn't give one ripe fuck about the consequences.  Without thinking, she grabbed her phone and stabbed out a number.

*  *  *

Donovan returned to his apartment with a blinding headache, but he still felt incredibly groggy.  It didn't seem to be like a typical hangover, there was something more to it.  He wondered if he could get his hands on the wine bottle.  _She would have tossed it out by now, Donovan.  Don't be a fucking idiot your entire life_.  He went to the sofa and plopped down on it.  Once again, he buried his face into his hands.  He'd give anything to erase the last few days.  When he told Larkin, she would never forgive him, and would leave immediately.  _Way to go, you stupid fuck_.  What would he do?  What the fuck would he do?  After a long moment, he brought himself up to his feet and went into the kitchen.  He opened the cabinet that housed his selection of wines.  One by one he took the bottles and poured the contents of each down the drain.  He never wanted to drink red wine again.  When his task was finished, he went back into the bedroom and made two phone calls for the night.  He spoke briefly to his boss and said he needed two or three sick days.  He couldn't work like this, not as fucked up as he was.  His next call was made to his doctor for a drug test.  He couldn't be seen for two days, but that was good enough for him.  As soon as he knew what the hell was in his system, Bailey Devere would rue the day she came to Chicago.  After he hung up, he took the phone off the hook and crashed down on his bed.  He missed Larkin, missed her more than he had ever missed another human being in his life.  However, he had thoroughly fucked up and didn't know what would become of his relationship with Larkin after he told her what happened.  He couldn't lose her, couldn't lose another love, not like this.  He grabbed a handful of his pillow and squeezed hard, wishing fervently that the pillow was Devere's fucking throat.     

*  *  *

Larkin had tried a million times to call Donovan, but she received nothing more than a busy signal.  She knew he wasn't talking to anyone; he had likely taken the phone off the hook.  That thought alone worried her even more.  _What the hell is happening to you?  Goddamn it, Frank, I wish you would have said something to me.  _Of course, he never would.  However, she was about to fix things and fix them for good.  Giving up on calling him, she dashed out the door.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**  


	10. A Time For Confession

A TIME FOR CONFESSION

Ellen Landry-Cole had arisen early that Monday morning.  Since she had taken her job at the White House, her days began at the crack of dawn.  Of course she had nannies and the like to help get the children to school, but it didn't keep her from having to rise with the chickens.  She got herself together fairly quickly, kissed her husband and children goodbye, and then she was out the door.  Ten or twelve years ago, if someone told her she would be working with the president, she would have laughed in his or her face.  She didn't like thinking of those years much, because she was actually dissatisfied with the person she was back then.  She had told her cousin a horrendous lie, making her think that a particular someone had gotten her pregnant.  Elle often wondered if she hadn't been a bit behind Grant's slide into crime.  She had heard of Kira's misdeeds first hand from the vice president.  How many lives had her cousin messed up?  She knew that Kira had targeted Chase Martel, the man supposedly behind Elle's pregnancy.  The VP took a ton of flack whenever a CIA agent turned rogue, and this was no exception.  He had gotten a thorough chewing out by the president, and the director was fired, and thrown into jail.  A new director was hired in and each agent was forced to endure an extensive round of psychological testing.  It should have been done with Kira, but she had evaded everything, including deprogramming.  Kira had been able to avoid this simply because she was fucking around with Director Dubois.  

Elle had once loved Kira more than her own parents, but her attitude had changed after the birth of the baby.  Kira was in the delivery room with her when they took the screaming infant from her body.  Elle had no desire to see the baby.  After all, she was giving it up to the state.  Kira wanted to see the child, wanted to look at Martel's baby.  Elle tried repeatedly to confess that the baby was not Martel's, but she wouldn't listen.  The moment Kira's eyes settled on the baby, she beheld a curious sight.  The child had bright red hair and emerald green eyes.  There was no one in the family with red hair or green eyes.  The child didn't even look like Martel or Elle.  Somehow, that angered Kira even more and she began cursing at her cousin, screaming at her.  It seemed that Kira was angry because Elle had broken some sacred plan of hers to ruin Martel's life.  Elle, exhausted and crying, tried to explain the situation, but Kira wasn't listening.  At that point, a look came into Kira's eyes, one that Elle had never seen.  Kira was actually close to killing someone, and had probably targeted the baby.  Her hand had nearly reached for a scalpel.  At that moment, Elle began to scream for the nurses to get Kira out.  After that day, she hadn't had much to do with her cousin.  However, Kira tried to keep in close touch, but their communication was mainly in letters and emails.  If they spoke on the phone, the conversations were brief and perfunctory.  She couldn't quite get the image of Kira's murderous gaze out of her mind and she didn't doubt for one second that if she hadn't spoken up, someone would have died that day.  Of course, when she had heard of the accident just outside D.C., she had grieved in her own special way.  After all, Kira had been close to her, but she refused to attend the memorial service.

Shrugging away the memories for the time being, Elle parked her car in her designated slot and made her way toward her office in the Pentagon.  Today she faced several staff meetings and wasn't looking forward to any of it.  She made her way through the throngs of other employees as she drew nearer to her office.  It was actually at the end of the hall, but she didn't mind.  She had more privacy and thinking space.  Her job function was such that she didn't require an office mate and on days like these, she was profoundly grateful.  As she entered her office, she took note of the stack of mail awaiting her.  She would go through it later.  Reading the mail was her greatest annoyance and she put it off as long as possible.  She took her purse and dug around until she found her cell phone.  Elle groaned aloud when she realized that she had forgotten to turn the damn thing on.  No sooner had she lain the stupid thing down that it rang.  Her Caller ID had the number as 'unknown.'  She came close to ignoring it, and later, she would wish she had.

Sighing, Elle punched a button and put the phone up to her ear.  "Hello?"

"I called you on this phone because I know it's your work cell and it's scrambled," Kira's voice said from beyond the grave.

"What the hell," Elle demanded.  "Kira?  You're…you're dead!"

She laughed heartily at that.  "No, actually I'm not.  I got out and I lived.  I had to get my face fixed, of course.  I look completely different now; no one would ever recognize me, including you.  I know we haven't really spoken in several years, but I wanted to call because I miss you."

"What do you intend to do, Kira," Elle asked, terribly afraid of the answer.  "You're still not stalking Chase Martel, are you?"  _Of course she is, stupid.  She hates Martel more than she hates anyone, including that red-haired baby.  _

"We'll see, Ellen.  Later."

For thirty minutes or more, Ellen stared down at her cell phone after Kira hung up in her ear.  She had orchestrated some type of escape from the van.  How was that possible?  She had seen pictures of the wreckage and didn't know how _anyone_ could survive that.  All the bodies had been accounted for.  Where in the hell had the extra body come from?  No one else had been on that trip.  The feds ensured that, because they knew Kira was a smart cookie and could pretty much do whatever the hell she wanted without much fuss or muss.  Ellen didn't exactly know what to do.  She didn't want to associate herself with another criminal, but if she remained silent, Martel might die.  As much as he had hurt her, she didn't want him to die.  She didn't want _anyone_ to die.

*  *  *

The family of Lois Erby grieved her loss, now almost nine months in the past.  When she first disappeared, they figured that she and her husband, Rick, had gotten into a marital spat and had left to chill out.  However, when she didn't return that night or the next day, they became worried.  They reported her missing, but the police wouldn't do anything for forty-eight hours.  They waited the agonizing two days, conducting their own searches.  Lois never turned up.  Coupled with Lois' loss, the family was also hit hard by the horribly tragic death of her husband.  The poor man had been burned beyond recognition in a bus accident.  They knew if they found Lois alive, her heart would immediately stop beating when she heard what happened to Rick.  However, Lois never heard the news, because she never turned up.  After eight long months, the family gave up totally.  They were certain she would never return alive.  The family wanted to know what happened to Lois, but they feared they would never find out the real story.

*  *  *

Larkin inserted her key into the lock and creaked open the door.  It was dark inside, but she knew he was home.  His keys were lying on the small table by the door.  Sighing tiredly, she dropped her suitcases and stretched her frame.  Her arms were heavy with exhaustion and she felt as if they'd fall off at any second.  Quietly, she moved through the apartment and went into the bedroom.  She found him in bed asleep, on his stomach, with his arms wrapped tightly around his pillow.  Apparently, he hadn't heard her entering.  Good.  She wanted to get into bed with him, but first she had to relieve her queasy stomach before she made a mess on the pristine carpet.  A little while later, as she washed her face at the sink, she couldn't help but wonder if getting in bed with him was such a good idea.  After all, he might catch whatever weird illness that had been assaulting her for the last month.  She stuck her head through the doorway to make sure that her gagging hadn't awakened Donovan.  It hadn't.  Excellent.  Too tired to climb into bed with him buck naked [she had no energy to make love to him tonight], she dug out her tee shirt and shorts and hurriedly dressed in them.

When she approached the empty side of the bed, she noticed that he was lying as far away from it as possible.  Had he ever done that before?  She was tempted to slide into bed beside him, but something about his posture bothered her.  Larkin climbed onto the bed and crossed her legs in front of her.  The tattoo on his shoulder blade was visible in the dark and he had told her what it meant.  However, he had also said he had wanted to remove it.  He had explained that it was done to him after one of his first missions with the CIA.  Donovan had claimed he had been a stupid rookie who thought he knew everything.  He had had the tattoo done because he was full of himself.  Two weeks after his big mission, he'd gotten shot because of his idiotic cockiness.  He had explained that he had grown up a little after that.  Pushing those thoughts aside, Larkin carefully watched the movement of his breathing.  How she had longed for him when he wasn't with her.  She had simply come early because she couldn't take it anymore, and the urgency in his voice on the phone was something she would never ignore no matter how hard he asked her to do so.  Giving up on the staring game for the moment, she stretched out on the bed beside him and leaned over his back.  

Donovan was in a deep sleep state and when he felt movement and the light touches, he thought he was dreaming.  However, the pressure grew more urgent and real.  In a span that might have lasted a nanosecond, he whipped his body around and reached out for the person touching him, knowing that it was Devere again.  If the lights were on, his eyes would have shown a cold, blank look.  It was a mode he slipped into very, very rarely.  It was a look Paige had seen before.  The moment he heard the startled gasp, he settled a little and loosened his grip.  _Selena?_  This had to be a dream.  It had to be, but her skin felt so real beneath his hands.  For a time, he had totally forgotten what Bailey Devere had done to him.  He simply wanted to focus on Larkin and his love for her.  He reached for her and kissed her hard and deeply.  His kiss was as surprising to Larkin as his behavior beforehand.  However, she responded and plunged her hands into his hair and held him close to her.  He desperately wanted to press forward, but first he had to talk to her, to tell her what happened.  He knew that she would leave him, but he couldn't hide it from her.  He couldn't hide _anything_ from her.

Donovan broke the kiss.  Before he said anything about Devere, there was a question lingering within him.  "Why are you here," he asked.

"Not exactly what I wanted to hear," she said with a little smile, "but since you asked, I'll tell you.  That phone call, Frank, I couldn't ignore it.  Whatever is going on, I need to know.  I want to help you if I can.  I just made the move two weeks early, no big deal.  I'll have a short vacation before hitting the new job."  She searched his face in the dark.  He looked utterly devastated.  She laid her hand on his cheek.  "Please, Frank, talk to me.  You're scaring the shit out of me."

_God.  How am I going to do this?  How am I going to tell her?  _"The Devere woman from down the hall, she came to me on Saturday night.  I was drinking because I was depressed, I missed you, and I got messed up.  She showed up with a bottle of red wine to pay me back for helping her evade a mugger.  I think she put something in the wine, because she tried to kiss me, but I pushed her away.  However, I wound up passing out.  When I woke up the next day, I remembered nothing, but she…"  _Say it, spit it out.  Tell her.  You see the look in her eyes.  She already knows what you're going to say.  Don't wimp out now.  Maybe she'll give you another chance._  She wouldn't.  "She was in bed with me."

Larkin couldn't quite believe what she heard.  She tried to take his words apart to understand each one.  He got drunk and fucked another woman.  She hadn't really heard the words 'I think she put something in the wine.'  She heard and understood nothing else.  To her broken heart, it sounded like a shoddy excuse.  It hurt, it hurt incredibly, and for a moment, a _brief _moment she finally understood what was going through Paige's mind when he told her about their sleeping together.  At first, she couldn't vocalize, she was entirely too shocked to say a word.  She moved away from him.  She didn't want him to touch her; she didn't want to touch him.  "You…you fucked her," she said in a stunned voice, more to herself than to him.  "You took her to your bed and fucked her."

"Selena," he began slowly, aching to take her into his arms.  "I…I didn't…"

"_No_," she bit out.  "Don't you dare say you didn't mean it or didn't do it.  I don't care if you were drunk, that's no excuse, and it's fucking lame.  Goddamn it, you really have that cheating thing down pat, don't you?  So what was it, Frank?  What made you do it?  What did I do?"

Her words cut him more effectively than the sharpest of knives.  They bit into his heart and chewed it up.  "Selena, you've done nothing wrong.  You've loved me and given me your heart, but I didn't do it.  I didn't fuck her.  I didn't."

She had just gotten here, but now she wanted to leave.  To get…away.  Her stomach ached miserably.  She had come to know the feeling well.  She was about to throw up again.  Donovan watched as she ripped away from the bed and ran into the bathroom.  He heard her getting sick and he didn't hesitate to go to her.  She had locked the door behind her.  With the gagging noises came a heavy flood of tears.  He hated himself right then, hated himself more and more as each of her teardrops fell.  

"Selena?  Please…"  

Larkin swung the door open and shoved her way past the wall of his body.  She struggled into a pair of jeans and didn't bother with a coat.  She made her way out of the bedroom and into the living room.  Donovan was right on her heels.  She stopped and turned toward him abruptly.  Without a thought, without a breath, she kicked out, aiming for his groin, but only managed to make contact with his stomach.  It didn't matter; the blow knocked the wind out of him and brought him to his knees.  He didn't see her grabbing his car keys.  She wanted to say something more, to scream at him, but she couldn't.  She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would vomit.  Larkin left his apartment and slammed the door behind her.

It took a few minutes for Donovan to recover from the kick in the stomach, and when he stood, he immediately noticed that she had taken his car keys.  Dear God.  How the hell could he fix this?  He needed a car, needed to find her.  In her condition, she shouldn't be driving.  Where the hell could he get a car?

Selena Jane Larkin had no idea where she driving, hadn't given one thought as to where she would go, but she knew for a moment that she had to get away from Frank Donovan while she could still salvage some of her sanity.  She had been so angry with him and she was aware that she had hurt him as much as he had hurt her.  Was his explanation plausible?  Believable?  _He loves you, Jane.  You know this.  What if he's telling the truth?  _He was certain he'd told Paige he loved her as well.  _Yes, Jane, but he didn't.  Not really.  Don't you recall the little argument you had with him the first night he made love to you?_  Oh God, it was too much.  Her mood was out of kilter again and she had to pull over before she ran off the road.  She began to sob uncontrollably and her stomach began to churn again.  _I should puke in the bastard's car_.  She sat back in the car seat and rolled down the window.  The night air was very crisp and cold.  It settled her stomach a little and she sighed in relief.  Was she calm enough to go back to Donovan now and perhaps listen to him?  She looked up suddenly as she noticed a set of headlights coming up behind her.  _Frank?_  How would he know where to find her?  She was just about ready to pull back into traffic when she noticed the car zooming toward her.  _They're coming for me, and…_  She didn't have time to complete her thought as the car barreled into the rear of the Lexus.

*  *  *

Donovan wound up snagging Alex's car and he drove around for an hour or more, but couldn't see his black Lexus anywhere.  Of course, his car wasn't the only one like it in the city, and it would be difficult to find.  He was a little irritated because Alex didn't have a radio inside with a police band.  He turned around at an intersection and started his trip again, this time taking a direct trajectory from his apartment building.  Larkin didn't know much about Chicago, so hopefully she hadn't strayed far.  He drove for a few miles more and was almost ready to turn around, but the far off scream of sirens disturbed him.  _No.  It's not her.  You're panicking._  Despite that thought, he drove toward the noise and as he drew closer and closer, he saw a horrifying scene unfolding before him.  Several police cruisers, fire trucks, and an ambulance were gathered around an accident.  He recognized the funky device the firefighters had.  It was the Jaws of Life.  He felt an incredible lurch in the pit of his stomach.  He knew it was she, but he didn't want to believe it.  He stopped the car abruptly, threw it in park, and didn't bother shutting the engine down.  He saw what had once been his car.  It was crumpled up as if it were a sheet of black construction paper.  He saw a stretcher and several different people surrounding it.  His heart completely stopped and he was totally incapacitated.  He couldn't move, his brain was frozen.  Donovan remained in this state no longer than five or ten seconds, but it felt like hours.  Without a thought toward the police, the medical personnel, or the firefighters, he began shoving his way through the crowd.  He prayed he would not see his Selena strapped down on that stretcher.  However, his prayer was not answered.  

He felt hands holding him back, heard commands of various authority figures and threats of restraint, but he wasn't listening, he _couldn't_ listen.  She was laid out on the stretcher, cuts littering her face, her blood flowing freely.  Her eyes were closed, but he didn't know if she were alive or dead.  He heard words being whispered around him, but he felt detached.  He picked up scraps of words and conversations here and there:  'hit and run,' 'rear ended,' roll over,' 'no witnesses.'  After that, he finally found his voice, strength, and footing.  He pulled away from the hands holding him back, shouting that he was a federal agent and for them to back the fuck off.  He made it to the side of the stretcher, but no one would allow him to touch her.  When the medics loaded her into the ambulance, he entered with her.  As he gazed upon her face, so still, the guilt began to eat him alive.  _What if she doesn't make it?  Your last memory of her will be telling her a strange woman was in bed with you_.  Donovan was unaware of what was going on around him, his sole focus was his Selena, and he couldn't tear his eyes off her face.  As soon as they made it to the hospital, she was immediately rushed into triage and Donovan was shoved back where he was forced to stay.  He wanted to see her, hold her, and erase the pain he had caused her.  

*  *  *

"_Who was it in that fucking car_," a voice roared.  "_What the fuck do you mean?  You're a goddamn idiot_!"  She fumed and sputtered.  "You need to watch your ass from now on, honey, because I know people who will be glad to blow you away."

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	11. Hell On Earth

HELL ON EARTH

Donovan hadn't been aware of much since he arrived.  He was solely focused on Larkin, but he had yet to hear anything.  Vaguely, he looked up when the front doors opened.  He was more than stunned to see the members of his team.  _How in the hell did they find out?_  It didn't take long for him to realize that Alex had probably called them when he asked to borrow her car.  Had he said anything about Larkin?  He felt two ways at once, irritated and grateful.  He knew they were aware of his and Larkin's relationship [_what relationship… you just fucked up good and proper_], but he had never elaborated about anything that was going on.  _They're here to offer you support, you idiot_.  

"How did you know," Donovan asked.

"We heard about the accident on the news," Alex said, "but when you asked for my car, you said you were going out to search for Selena.  Have you heard anything?"

He shook his head, but said nothing.  _Please Selena, pull through this.  I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.  _Donovan couldn't push out the images of his crumpled car.  How in the hell could she make it out of that alive and well?  God, what he wouldn't give for another chance with her, for another chance to keep her safe and sound in his apartment.  Regardless of the harsh words, the hurt, he loved her so very much.  Alex, Jake, Cody, and Monica took seats at various corners of the room.  They weren't just here for him; they had come for Larkin as well.  All of them knew her, but she was closest to Cody and Monica.  He wanted to get up and pace about the room, but he couldn't move a muscle.  As soon as the shock wore off, he would hunt tirelessly for whoever had done this to Larkin.  For now, he would remain static and calm for her.  

After an hour or more, Donovan looked up when he noticed a stony faced attending physician.  "Are you here for Selena Larkin?"

Donovan stood suddenly and approached the doctor.  "Yes."  He held his breath and waited for the news, praying desperately that it was good.  "How is she?  Is she okay?"

"You are?"

He sighed.  _Who **am **I to her?  After our conversation earlier, I'm not sure if I'm **anything **to her.  _If he didn't stretch the truth, he would receive no news at all.  "We're engaged."  He couldn't see the looks on the faces of his team members, but he figured they were relatively shocked to say the least.

The man nodded.  "I'll give you a run down.  She has several facial lacerations and abrasions that should heal with minimal scarring.  She has a sprained wrist, two broken fingers, severe whiplash, and several bruised ribs.  Basically, the seatbelt and the airbag saved her life.  There was some bleeding that concerned us, but we discovered that it was due to a miscarriage.  I'm sorry, we did all we could, but it was too late."

Donovan had taken all of it in, but the moment he heard the word 'miscarriage,' his mind stopped working completely.  Had he simply imagined that he'd heard it?  He blinked stupidly at the doctor.  He looked like a small child who had been given an ice cream cone with no clue as to what to do with it.  "She…she was pregnant?"  He felt the room spinning all around him as if he had stepped into a deep vortex.  He finally understood why she had been so damn sick and moody.  With that revelation came the sudden knowledge that she had lost the baby.  _Why didn't she tell me?  Why did she make me wait until this horrible moment to know?_  He had to sit down for a minute, if he didn't, he thought he might fall down instead.  He chose the nearest chair and plopped his body into it.  _Maybe she intended to tell you tonight before you broke her heart, you jackass.  See what you lost because of your idiocy?  _When he looked up, he noticed that the physician was still standing before him, as if waiting for him to speak.  He wasn't aware of any damn thing, not the shocked/worried looks on the faces of his team members, the sound of people passing by him, or the PA system paging various doctors and nurses.  For so many months, he had loved her, had _made love _to her, and it had taken no more than seventy-two hours to fuck it all up.  "When can I see her," he asked.

"Tomorrow.  She isn't conscious right now and we need to keep her calm for at least a few more hours."

*  *  *

_The car was coming toward her at an alarmingly fast pace.  She had her foot on the accelerator, because she knew it was about to smack her in the rear.  Being sick had slowed down her reflexes, she couldn't steer the car back into traffic soon enough.  She gave the car some gas anyway.  If that car hit her at its current rate of speed, she would not survive.  The car rammed into the rear of hers, and she completely lost control of it.  It weaved and wobbled for miles.  The air bag then disengaged itself, and she felt the sudden rush of air as it slammed against her.  She immediately took her foot off the gas, but that only helped a little.  Taking her hands off the wheel, she allowed the car to go its own way.  There was nothing she could do to stop it.  It made a complete roll over and settled on its wheels.  For a moment, she could hear nothing but the overwhelming sound of screeching metal and shattering glass.  Trapped in the twisted remains of the car, she watched vaguely as the vehicle that had run her off the road slipped slowly past her.  There was a young man behind the wheel.  She wanted to ask him why he had done this to her, but she couldn't speak.  **Am I alive?  Did I die?  **He did not stop to check on her, but she could have sworn she saw him sneering her way, sneering and shaking his head in disbelief.  She knew little or nothing after that as she slipped in and out of consciousness.  The only sound that brought her out of it was the ear splitting whine of machinery.  She had then felt the sensation of being lifted in the air and laid out on something hard and unyielding.  She lost a bit of time and the next thing she knew, she was in an ambulance.  She thought she saw Donovan's face looming above her at one point.  **Impossible**.  How would he have found her?  She had almost forgotten the scene that played out before them, and when it tweaked her nerves, she closed her eyes.  She couldn't look at him, not yet, not until she got past the hurt and devastation.  She had begun to wonder if that was even possible.  Everything after that was a gigantic blur.  She felt pain and pokes and prods before blackness surrounded her again._

*  *  *

Although he was physically and emotionally exhausted, Donovan refused to go home.  When Larkin was allowed visitors early the next morning, he entered the room and took a chair near her bed.  She was either still out cold or ignoring him.  He'd tried contacting members of her family earlier, but wound up leaving messages on half a dozen answering machines.  Donovan sat at her bedside, incredibly close to tears, having brief and painful flashbacks of when Taryn died.  However, this seemed so much worse for him.  There was no doubt that Larkin would live, but she had lost a baby, _their _baby, and she had failed to tell him she was pregnant.  For several weeks, she had been ill, and had become angered whenever he mentioned that she should see a doctor.  Now, he completely understood why.  He waited and watched, wondering when she would open her eyes and look at him.  He had no doubt that she would demand that he leave her room, but he had a few heartbreaking questions of his own.  Donovan stood suddenly and went into the tiny bathroom.  He splashed his face with cold water for a few moments and then blotted it dry.  He couldn't immediately return to the room.

Larkin moaned a little when her eyes came open slowly.  They felt sticky and hot.  There were a thousand aches and pains attacking her at once, the worst in her chest and abdomen.  _Uh.  What did I hit_?  Her neck felt as if it was encased in foam and then she realized she more than likely had whiplash or something.  There was no one in the room with her, and for a moment, that thought saddened her above all others.  Her first thought, of course, was Donovan.  Where the hell was he?  _After what you said to him, do you think he would come back to you?_  She moaned again.  Did she even _want _him to come to her?  Her eyes moved to the small bathroom as she watched the door opening.  Donovan was with her after all.  She closed her eyes and ran her tongue over her lips.  She didn't know if she was ready to talk to him just yet.  She hoped he hadn't noticed her moving.  When he approached the bedside and sat down again, she realized he had not.  _Good.  I can have a few minutes to collect myself before I look at him.  I want to be angry, I want to hate him, but I just can't.  Why is that?  All he has to do is touch me, and it's over._  As if reading her mind, his hand reached out and fell gently onto hers.  She was so startled that she nearly reacted, but she remained still and unmoving.  He took her otherwise limp hand into his.  _Let me go, I can't stand this, Frank.  Let me go so I don't have to betray what my head is telling me to do_.  How long could she play this game before she gave in to him?  She was so angry that she wanted to rip his heart out of his chest, but she couldn't do it.  She loved him too much.  Donovan had yet to look at her, his eyes were focused on her hand, waiting for her to show some signs of life. 

"Selena," he said softly, "I know you're awake and I know you can hear me.  Right now, you probably hate me, but it still doesn't excuse what you did.  Why didn't you tell me?"

It took extreme strength and will for her not to raise up and start screaming at him.  What the hell kind of asshole was he to suggest that _she _had lied to _him_ about _anything_?  If her fucking neck didn't hurt like a bitch, she would come off the bed and pummel his smug ass into the ground.  Perhaps he could be laid out in the room next door to hers.  The sheer incredulity that she felt forced her eyes to open and focus on his face.  He was startled at the sudden way she came awake.  He immediately released her hand.  She looked up and over at him, her jaw set and determined.  "What are you talking about," she asked, her husky voice barely above a whisper.  "Why didn't I tell you _what_?"

Donovan stared at her for a long time.  A dawning realization hit him very, very slowly.  More than once in his life, he had stuck his foot in his mouth, and today, he had done so up to his knee.  _You've hurt her again, you stupid fucker_.  He had pointed a finger at her before he had even thought it out.  Now, he was faced with the difficulty of explaining what the hell he meant, and he didn't know if he had the balls to do it.  Carefully, cautiously, he asked, "You didn't…know?"

She noted the shock on his face, the fact that he looked as if he was just about to pass out.  She hadn't seen him like this before.  It was terrifying and she didn't like it a bit.  "I didn't know _what_, Frank?  What the hell are you talking about?"  

Part of him was tempted to let it pass.  Wouldn't she be better off without knowing?  However, he could not hide from her, couldn't lie.  If she found out on her own [which she most likely would], it would be yet one more strike against him [as if he didn't already have enough].  "Oh God," he said, nearly moaning.  He didn't want to be the one to tell her, but it was better that it was him and not the uncaring face of an attending physician.  "Selena, the reason you were sick didn't have anything to do with the flu," he began slowly, painfully.  "You…you were pregnant, but you lost the baby when you crashed."

She didn't stop looking at him for a long time.  She sat and digested his words, drew them in, and tore them apart to make sense of them.  In those six or seven weeks, she had never once suspected pregnancy.  However, one of her co-worker girlfriends had commented about it one morning while she had been in the bathroom puking her guts up.  _Selena, I think you should see a doctor.  Maybe you're pregnant_.  She had laughed it off, of course.  _Pregnant, yeah right.  Whatever.  _"I was pregnant?  I…I lost the baby…our baby?"  He said nothing.  He nodded and kept his eyes on her face.  He wanted to reach for her, but she wasn't receptive.  "I lost a baby…I…"  She could say nothing else.  Although the movement sent a jolting pain through her body, she turned to her side.  It was too much, it was all too much.

Knowing that he'd probably pay for it later, Donovan moved quickly, gently climbing into her hospital bed, mindful of her injuries.  He couldn't hold back any longer.  He had to hold her, had to love her as long as she would allow him.  She was crying silently, desperately trying to hide her face.  He could sense she wanted to kick him out, to scream at him, perhaps, but she had little strength to do any of that.  Her body was unyielding and rigid.  He ached to wrap his arms around her, but he was afraid he'd hurt her further.  Instead, he laid his hand on her arm.  The moment he touched her, she sighed a little, ending it with a long string of sobs that shook her entire body.  He enveloped her with his body, desperately trying to give her all his strength, warmth, and love.

*  *  *

After she had cried herself to sleep, Donovan pulled away and went back to the chair beside the bed.  He didn't think the hospital staff would appreciate his lying in bed with her.  He was inclined not to give a ripe fuck, but he didn't want to rock the boat.  He still didn't know what she would do once she woke up.  He would do anything in his power to prove to her that nothing had happened between him and Devere.  Actually, he would do anything she wanted.  He watched her sleep for a few hours before she finally sighed a little and carefully turned onto her back.  There was a grimace of pain on her face that fell away as soon as she completed her turn.  She had yet to open her eyes.  For the second time today, he wondered if she were hiding from him again.  He should have gotten up right that moment and left her, but he couldn't.  Just as she opened her eyes and made ready to speak, the door came open, and a nurse entered.  Donovan drew away to give the nurse room.  He needed the chance to stretch his legs, but he hadn't wanted to leave her side.  After five minutes or so, the nurse left, and Donovan went back to his chair.  He opened his mouth to speak, but a knock on the door sounded off.  _Damn it_.  The door came open a few seconds later and three people entered that Donovan hadn't ever seen before.  He received his answer when Larkin muttered 'Mom,' 'Dad,' 'Kraig.'  They were all members of her family, none of whom he'd ever met.  He noticed that she looked more like her father than her mother, as did her brother.  Larkin had told him about her family and the fact that she was the youngest, but he'd never seen pictures of them.

This was not the best time in the world for introductions and Donovan felt a bit awkward and out of place.  Larkin's family gazed at Donovan curiously, waiting for her to tell them that this man was the one she had transferred from D.C. to be with.  Larkin said nothing; she hiked up her hospital bed, and allowed her family to approach her.  There were hugs and kisses shared all around.  Larkin finally fixed her gray eyes on Donovan and he saw extreme pain in them.  "This is Frank," she said softly, her voice no louder than a whisper.  

Although he wasn't feeling up to it, he greeted her family and accepted their handshakes and half-hugs.  They'd heard a lot about him and were finally glad they had met him.  He made himself scarce after that to allow them some privacy.  Donovan went out into the waiting room and noticed that Cody and Monica had returned.  

"How is she," Cody asked.

"She's going to be fine," he said vacantly.  He wanted to elaborate no further.  They had all heard that Larkin had been pregnant and they were curious, but they wouldn't press for information.  "I want the police report for the accident.  I want to know if there were any witnesses.  If there were, I want them found and brought to me.  I know this is a personal endeavor, but I need this information, do you understand?"

*  *  *

Several hours later, Donovan returned to the hospital.  He hadn't wanted to leave, but Cody and Monica persuaded him to go home for a while to rest and get a change of clothing.  When he entered the waiting room, he ran into Larkin's family as they prepared to leave for their hotel.  He didn't want to face them, not after what he'd put their daughter through.  

"Mr. Donovan," Larkin's father began, "I'm glad we were finally able to meet you.  Selena has spoken very highly and fondly of you."

_I'm sure she did until I shattered her heart into a trillion pieces.  If you knew the real truth, you'd probably kick my ass.  _"Thank you," he said.  "Me too."

They left not long after the brief exchange and Donovan found his hand going to the nape of his neck.  He made his way toward Larkin's room and hoped to find her awake.  If he didn't speak to her soon, he thought he might have a fit.  When he entered the room, Larkin was still awake and watching television.  She had yet to lower her bed flat.  She knew he had come in, but she didn't look his way.  He approached her bedside and grabbed the empty chair and pulled it around beside her.

"Selena, will you talk to me," he asked, his voice low and almost raspy.

He sounded as if he had been outside screaming at the top of his lungs.  "I'll talk," she said, her voice just as low and raspy.  

Donovan closed his eyes for the briefest of moments and opened them.  When he focused them on her face, she had yet to make eye contact with him.  He reached out and took her hand, completely expecting her to deny his touch, but she didn't.  "I'll do everything in my power to make it up to you, to convince you.  I'll do everything in my power to find out who did this to you.  You may not believe it any longer, but I love you so very much, and I want to find who hurt you, who hurt us.  Please, Selena, believe me, I didn't touch her.  I _wouldn't _touch her."

She rolled her eyes and felt fresh tears falling down her cheeks.  "This is all too much for me right now, okay," she said shakily.  "I've had lots of shit piled onto me in the last couple of days, and it hurts, Frank, it really hurts.  I'm sorry for what I said to you before I left.  It was cruel and unwarranted.  I just can't…can't deal with it all right this second.  Is that okay?  We…we can sort it out in a few days.  Can you let me do that?"

His heart aching tremendously, he nodded sedately.  "I can."  He started to pull away from her, but she held fast onto his hand.

"I didn't say I wanted you to go," she said, fixing her eyes on his face.  "I just don't want to talk about anything."

He nodded.  "Okay, we don't have to, not until you're ready," he said.

"Frank, I really need you to kiss me," she said.

"And I really need to do it."

He brought his lips to hers gently, but needed so much more.  However, he wouldn't push her, he would never push her.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**  


	12. Making Up

MAKING UP

Larkin awoke well after sunrise when a wisecracking nurse came in to take her vitals and draw yet more blood.  She had no idea why they wanted to take so much damn blood from her.  The only _good _thing they had done for her this morning was to take the IV line out.  Today, they intended to feed her _real _food, but she didn't know if she had an appetite.  It was then that she noticed Donovan's absence in the room.  He had stayed with her last night, sleeping in the recliner bed thing in the corner of the room.  She reasoned that he had either gone home for a while or went to the cafeteria.  Although she was certain he needed the room and the breathing space, she was disappointed not to see his face the first thing.  There was so much shit they needed to work through and talk about, but she wasn't quite ready.  Her neck and head hurt like a mother and all she wanted to do was go back to sleep.  Sleep and forget.  Forget and sleep.  When the nurse was gone for a few minutes, the door opened again.  _God, no more blood, please.  I'll bet I don't have a quart left in me.  _Instead of a member of the hospital staff, it was Donovan.  The poor guy looked like shit.  He had a day's growth of beard on his face and dark circles under his eyes.  He probably hadn't slept in his own bed in a couple of days.  Donovan said nothing to her.  Instead, he moved back over to the recliner and sat down.  They hadn't spoken much since last night because neither of them really knew what to say to the other.  For weeks, for _months_, they'd dreamed of the day Larkin finally transferred.  However, they never thought it would turn out this way.  She wasn't looking at him, but she could feel his eyes on her, wondering when she _would _focus her eyes on him.  

Sensing that Larkin had no intention of speaking to him right away, he decided to touch upon something else eating at him, something that he needed to ask last night.  "Selena, did you see who rammed into you?"

She finally looked up at him.  "I didn't see him that well.  It was a young man, but I couldn't tell you what he looked like."

"A young man," he said, the words tweaking him, pricking him like a thousand needles.  He immediately thought of Devere's 'brother.'  Why would they target Larkin…unless they thought it was he in the car?  _Why go to such an extreme?  _He held his tongue and didn't mention Devere's name.  It would only bring up the pain and he had no intention of hurting her again.  "I'll find him."  

He saw the look in her eyes.  The question 'how' was clearly written in them.  He had begun to elaborate further when the door came open again.  When Larkin saw that it was a nurse, she groaned again, thinking that she had come for more blood or tests.  Instead, she asked for Donovan, and he nodded briefly.  Curiously, she watched as he left the room and stepped out in the hall.  If her damn neck wasn't killing her, she would have climbed out of bed to find out what the hell they were talking about, but she really had no energy for that anyway.  She was halfway tempted to go back to sleep, but she couldn't do that either.  She worked the bed up as far as she could stand it.  After that, she carefully swung her legs over the bed, sending a jolt of pain into her neck that traveled down to her bruised ribs and cramping stomach.  Taking a deep breath, she planted her bare feet on the cold floor.  _Goddamn, everything hurts so fucking much_.  Her door was cracked open just the slightest and if she could make it up there, she might be able to hear what Donovan was discussing with the nurse.  She didn't understand why he would be discussing her or her treatment.  She didn't think something like that was necessary.  When she reached the door, she could hear Donovan's voice, but couldn't make out what they were saying.  _Jane, why the hell do you care so much what he and that nurse are talking about?  Do you think they're discussing **you**?  _She began to back up when she heard the mumbling voices dying out.  Any moment now, he'd come back to her room.  She thought she might have a chance to make it back to the bed before he reentered.  However, she didn't.

Donovan entered and saw that Larkin was standing almost in the middle of the room, heading toward her bed.  _Had she been trying to listen?  _It wasn't something he was ready to discuss with her yet, but it didn't fail to cross his mind that she probably inherently knew what was going on anyway.  "Selena?  What are you doing?"

"I had to get up and move around," she said.  She approached the bed and slid back onto it with the same slow, careful movements.  She was in a lot of pain, but she didn't want to show it in front of him.  She noticed that Donovan hadn't moved any further into the room.  "What were you talking about with that nurse," she asked.  "She came for you and I heard your voices.  What's going on?"  

Sighing, Donovan moved over to the chair that he had parked close to her bedside.  He sat down and crossed his legs.  He wanted to tell her, but was it too soon?  He remembered her tears last night and the way she had begged him not to mention anything about their fight.  What he had discussed with the nurse was directly related to it.  It was information she needed; it was something _he _needed to share with her.  "It's nothing," he finally said.  "It can wait for a few days."

"No it can't," she said stubbornly.  "_Tell me_."

Donovan sighed again and ran his hands over his face.  He didn't want to utter the name in her presence so soon, but she was pressing, and she _did_ need to be told.  He focused his eyes on her face and said, "Before you came, I requested a drug test and it was scheduled when the accident occurred.  Last night, I asked the hospital to do it.  The nurse came by to give me the results.  I didn't want to tell you because of your wish to wait.  They found benzos, Selena."

Larkin leaned back a little and took her eyes off his face.  He hadn't lied.  Devere drugged him.  If she drugged him, then perhaps she never fucked him, either.  Again, she felt the overwhelming sensation of experiencing too much at once.  Her mind had begun to spin.  Why had everything gotten so screwed up so fast?  Why would Devere fuck around with him like that?  She could only deal with those little pieces.  She couldn't yet deal with the miscarriage, and would probably hide from it as long as she could.  Her shattered heart ached with the knowledge that he hadn't lied to her, but the hurt was still there.  Grimacing again, she turned onto her side, her back facing him.  Right at that moment, she didn't know how she felt or what she should do.  She longed to have Donovan crawl in behind her again, but at the same time, she didn't want him to touch her.  What the hell was happening to her?  Was she losing her mind?  The man she loved sat no further than a foot away from her, he had not cheated on her, but she still couldn't reach out and bridge the gap.  God.  Why did she suddenly feel so worthless?  She wanted to ask Donovan to leave, but she didn't.  She knew he could sense she wanted him to go, but he didn't budge, and she would never forget that.

*  *  *

Bailey Devere was in bed, but as usual, she was not alone.  Beside her slept her brother, Beau.  He had passed out just seconds after coming all over her.  He was no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, but could be an amorous and vigorous lover.  However, he had fucked up big.  She recalled screaming at him at the top of her lungs for running the wrong person off the road.  It mattered little to her that it was the putrid girlfriend, but she had wanted it to be Donovan.  Beau had groaned and whined for more than an hour, pleading with her not to kick him out.  She had relented and then slept with the pathetic little fuck.  Yet, he was becoming useless to her now.  He had helped get her the drugs she'd slipped to Donovan and she had no more fucked him than she had fucked the girlfriend.  Sooner or later, she'd have to take Beau out and dump his body somewhere.  Having too many assistants wasn't a good idea.  She laughed a little when she thought about what she had done to the man.  It was fun playing with his head.  The devastation on his face was beautiful, something she would have liked to have saved on film.  He was effectively ruined now, with his girlfriend and himself.  She wasn't finished yet.  She stretched and ran her hands through her hair.  She made a face when she realized that her roots were beginning to show.  It was almost time for another dye job.

Unable to sleep now, she left the bed and approached her vanity.  She brushed her short hair back from her face and grimaced when she fixed her eyes on her mutilated ear.  No amount of plastic surgeries had fixed it.  If either Martel or Larkin saw her ear, they would immediately know Bailey Devere was, in fact, Kira Grant.  There was little else she could do right now.  Larkin was in the hospital and Martel would not leave her side unless he was pressed to do so.  There were some issues she had to take care of, because Martel wasn't an idiot.  How long would it take him to suspect he had been drugged?  A simple drug test would show the dope that she had popped into the wine bottle.  She was running out of time to do what she needed to, but the unexpected hospital thing had thwarted her plans a little, made them more difficult.  She turned around in her chair and made a face at the little fucker in her bed.  For a moment, she had honestly forgotten what his name was.  Her memory wasn't up to par yet, so she continued to call him Beau, and he didn't seem to mind.  Of course, she was giving him a daily piece of ass, and there wasn't much he'd complain about.  When he awoke, she would take the kid with her, drug him, and eliminate him once and for all.  Grant sat completely still for a moment, her mind blanking out on her, a buzzing noise filling her head.  For several minutes, she didn't move or blink.  When she came around, she shook her head slowly.  Who had she been thinking about?  What was it now?  Martel.  Franklin Chase Martel.  _Grant, you are losing your fucking mind_.

*  *  *

Ellen Landry-Cole sat in her office dazed and silent.  She had received a few other calls from her cousin.  She wasn't sure if Kira had even remembered them, because she would repeat the same information over and over again.  Kira wasn't focused and seemed a little…insane.  She rambled incessantly about Martel and the things she wanted to do to him.  It had gotten to the point where Elle was scared shitless.  She knew she should have tried to find Martel after the first phone call, but she hadn't wanted to get embroiled in whatever her cousin was trying to do.  One close call was enough for her.  Elle had poked around a little since Kira had been contacting her, and there didn't seem to be any information about Martel anywhere.  It was as if all his records had been deleted.  If she could find him, she would warn him.  The only person who would know Martel's location was Dubois, the former CIA director.  He was stuck somewhere in a federal prison in D.C., and it wouldn't be difficult to visit him, not with her title.  All she had to do was tell the VP she needed some vital information from him, and a visit would be granted without question.    

*  *  *

Grumbling, Grant entered her apartment and took off her trench coat.  Her blouse was streaked with the little fucker's blood.  When she stabbed him, he had bled like a fucking pig.  Thank God she hadn't done it in the car.  The place where she'd taken him was fairly remote and the police wouldn't immediately find him.  However, if she didn't get rid of the fucking blood evidence all over her damn blouse, her game would end quickly.  She stripped out of the blouse and carried it over to the sink.  She dug out a pair of scissors and began cutting up the blouse in small strips.  She fed each of them down the garbage disposal, hoping that it didn't clog the damn thing.  Whatever would she tell the landlord if her disposal got jammed?  _Sorry, sir, but I was trying to feed it my blood soaked blouse.  Where did the blood come from?  Oh, sir, it came from the little boy I've been fucking.  I slit his throat.  You should have seen the blood!_  Shaking it off, she breathed a sigh of relief as the disposal ate it piece by piece.  When her task was complete, she shoved the trench coat into the trash.  There was probably blood on it, too, but it was black and it wouldn't show quite as vividly.  There was still blood streaking her body at various spots.  It was time to take a shower and to begin plotting out her final plans for the putrid couple.

*  *  *

Several people came to visit Larkin, including her family again, and the members of the team.  Donovan stayed pretty much on the periphery, attempting to leave when her family entered, but they wanted him to stay.  Her family was nice enough, but he still felt awkward around them.  There had been too much stress and tension for him to feel comfortable.  He wasn't sure how much they knew, but from the look on Larkin's face, she hadn't told them anything.  She smiled a lot and acted as if she was happy to see everyone, but he noted that the smile never really touched her eyes.  She was still so very sad and hurt.  It broke Donovan's heart a little to see that look in her eyes and he had difficulty watching her.  He had gotten up at one point and went to the window.  His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Devere and what she had done to him.  It seemed a bit out of the ordinary for her to go to such extreme lengths to hurt him and Larkin simply because of jealousy or even obsession.  Devere was weird, but she wasn't obsessive at all.  _Grant?  Is it Grant?  _The thought wouldn't go away, it kept eating at him, digging persistently.  However, she was dead.  There was no way the woman could come back from the grave and wreak havoc.  It was insane.  Was Devere somehow tied to Grant?  He sighed a little.  Nothing made sense anymore.  As soon as he and Larkin had had the time they needed to work through this shit, he intended to confront the bitch.  He had sent Jake and Alex several times to the apartment, but she never answered her door.  It was time for him to face off with her and if he had to, drag her ass up to the hospital, and make her confess as to what she had done.  If he had to, he'd bring her kicking and screaming.  He would not allow this bitch to ruin his relationship with Larkin, not after almost ten months.  _Damn you, Devere, what the fuck is your connection_?

"Frank?"

Donovan turned at the sound of Larkin's voice calling his name.  They were in the room alone.  He hadn't realized that her visitors had left her.  He hadn't heard a soul leaving.  He'd been lost in an enraged fog.  Quietly, he walked over and grabbed a chair, pulling it up against her bedside.  "I'm sorry, I have a lot on my mind.  I'll apologize to your family the next time they visit."

She shook her head.  "No," she said, "You don't have to apologize.  They were focused on me and they worry excessively.  It's that baby of the family only girl child thing.  I know you have a lot on your mind, because it's probably in mine as well.  It's the same kind of stuff."  She looked down at her broken fingers before settling her eyes on his face again.  "I want to apologize, but I really don't know what I'd be apologizing for, other than those awful words I said to you, and the fact that I flew off the handle without listening to you.  But I feel like there's more I need to say, more I need to ask of you."

"Selena, you don't have to apologize for anything.  I can't say I would have handled the situation any differently than you did," he said.

"When I sleep, I think about it, about everything that happened in that tiny space of time.  I think of things I could have done differently, things I could have said.  I ran away when I could have faced you, but I didn't…didn't know what else to do.  I think about all those 'what ifs.'  What if I'd stayed?  There would have been no accident, no pain, and no hospital.  If I'd stayed, there wouldn't have been a miscarriage.  I don't know how you feel about that, but I would have been thrilled.  I would have been…"  She couldn't say anything else.  Her words died in her throat and she buried her face in her hands.

He again wasn't sure how she would react to him, but he didn't think about it.  Instead, he touched her arm and she immediately removed her hands.  She wasn't yet crying, but she read what he wanted to do just by the look in his eyes.  She moved slightly to accommodate Donovan's body.  He sat beside her, drew her close, nearly cradling her in his arms [ever mindful of her injuries].  "No, Selena, don't think like that.  Don't try to put all this on your shoulders.  There is no blame here.  The thought of you having my baby is one I cannot describe with mere words.  Nothing I could say or do would ever touch it or come close.  If you'll stay with me, give me another chance, we can take that step again whenever you're ready."

She closed her eyes tightly.  "There was never a question of staying with you or giving you another chance.  I love you, Frank.  I just wish it could all be taken back.  All of it…everything."

"Whatever happened has happened and it can't be changed.  There's always tomorrow and the day after and the day after that.  Whoever hurt you will have to watch his back every day of his life.  He will never do it again."

*  *  *

The next day, Donovan went to the nest to find out if Cody had uncovered any information regarding witnesses to the accident.  There were a few, but most of them had only seen a dark car without tags.  No one had seen who was driving the vehicle.  He was irritated to say the least, but not surprised.  He then went by his apartment and banged on Devere's door for a good five minutes, but she never answered.  He stood at her door and scribbled a note.  He slid it under the door and went back to the nest.  Larkin was due out of the hospital at the end of the week, and he wanted the situation straightened out with Devere before she moved in.  He had no doubt that Devere and her weird ass brother were behind the wreck.  He couldn't prove it, but deep inside his heart, he knew.  When he left his apartment, he went by the coffee shop on a whim.  He growled in anger when he saw the 'closed' sign.  Below that was one that said 'for sale.'  _Goddamn her, she's trying to split_.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	13. Redemption

REDEMPTION

Ellen Landry-Cole sighed as the private jet tooled slowly into the terminal.  It was one used only by VIPs.  The VP had set this up for her and she was profoundly grateful.  She had no intention of lingering any longer than she needed to.  There would be a limo awaiting her to get her to the hotel.  After that, she would approach Martel [who now went by the name Frank Donovan…she didn't understand that] and give him the information she had.  Regardless of what he did in the past, he certainly didn't deserve to be ruined so ruthlessly.  When she climbed into the limo and got settled, she reached down and went for the wet bar.  If she were expected to face Martel, she'd need a drink.  After all, she could clearly be arrested in this deal.  _You may not walk away from this one unscathed.  _She poured herself a scotch straight up; she needed nothing to weaken it.  She was afraid she had a long day ahead of her.

The gang was a little on the irritated side.  Jake and Alex had gone to the apartment at least nine dozen times without getting anything good.  Cody and Monica stayed behind and did what they could behind the scene.  Every few hours, Donovan checked with them from the hospital.  They expected Donovan back no later than tomorrow.  Larkin was out of the danger zone and would be released very soon.  Cody looked up and listened when he heard a person entering the building.  He expected their visitor to be Donovan.  However, he was wrong.  Cody elbowed Monica and lifted his chin toward the woman.  She seemed vaguely familiar to them, but they couldn't place her.  She was tall and thin with brutally short hair that was a hard to define color.  She was neither unattractive nor beautiful.  She was simply…average.

"Can we…ah…help you," Cody asked, wondering how the hell this woman had gotten inside their building.

"Yes," she said with a soft, tentative voice, "I'm Ellen Landry-Cole and I need to speak with Frank Donovan immediately."

*  *  *

Larkin had fallen asleep about thirty minutes ago.  She had been experiencing some pain that would not go away.  Fighting against it for all she was worth, hospital personnel insisted that she take an injection.  Now, she was pretty much passed out and would likely remain that way for several hours.  He could have left her, but he didn't want to.  He felt the need to stay at least until tonight.  Some time tomorrow, Larkin was slated to be released, and he was unsure about that.  He didn't feel comfortable taking her to his apartment, especially not with Devere wandering around.  She wouldn't be safe anywhere but a hotel.  Even then, would her safety be ensured?  Someone would have to stay with her, but who?  He needed his team, but he didn't want to leave Larkin alone.  It wasn't a good idea.  If Devere were responsible for Larkin's car accident, she wouldn't hesitate to hurt her further.  Yet, he was more than certain Devere's target hadn't truly been Larkin.  How would Larkin handle this?  She had never feared anything in her life, even after Grant had tried to shoot her through the bathroom wall ten months ago.  She wouldn't take kindly to being guarded as if she were a sacred witness.  However, he would have to insist.  He thought of her parents and brother.  They were still in Chicago.  Perhaps he could help divert them to a safe place and then use a decoy as a stand-in for Larkin.  Alex?  He nodded absently.  It was exactly what he would do.  Donovan turned toward Larkin and approached the bedside.  He took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips, muttering 'I love you' under his breath.  He left and stepped out into the hallway.  He intended to go out and call his team to begin setting it up.

"Mr. Donovan?"

Donovan stopped, recognizing the voice immediately.  _What is she doing here?  How did she know where to find me?_  _How did she know to call me Donovan?  _Slowly, he turned around to face the woman.  He stood before Ellen Landry-Cole.  The only thing that had changed about her was her self-assuredness.  She didn't seem quite as mousy as she did ten or twelve years ago.  Her hair was brutally short and either frosted or dusted with gray.  She was well put together in an expensive business suit.  Her eyes studied him curiously.  Elle did her own assessment of the man she had known as Tony Miles.  Unlike her, he had changed tremendously.  He seemed harder and colder [if that was even possible].  However, his eyes had softened a bit, as if someone or something had touched him.  Of course, she didn't doubt it was _someone_.  The people at Donovan's place of employ had explained he was at the hospital with his girlfriend.  _Girlfriend?  I never thought Martel had it in him to have a girlfriend_.  _I never thought he had it in him to truly love someone enough to stay with them ceaselessly.  _His olive skin had paled and he looked as if he was getting ready to pass out and puke at the same time.

"There is something you need to know," Elle said.  "Can we find a private place to talk?"

Donovan had no idea where such a place was, but he would damn well find one.  He nodded her way, trying to indicate that she should follow.  The two of them went from one end of the hall to the other before finding a private waiting room.  Thankfully, it was vacant.  He led her inside, closed the door behind him, and then locked it.  Elle took a seat and crossed her arms and legs.  She watched in silence as Donovan chose a chair directly across from her.  He wanted to look her in the eye, find out what she wanted, and then he would apologize for everything he hadn't apologized for back when he first met her.  He wanted to speak first, but she shook her head.  She had a ton of things to tell him and there was no time for idle chitchat or asking a dozen whys, hows, and whats.  

"Kira Grant is my cousin, my _close_ cousin.  We were like sisters.  Part of her hatred of you has to do with your mission back when you called yourself Tony Miles."  At the mention of that, Donovan's pale face grew even paler.  Once again, he tried to speak, but she wouldn't let him.  She held up her hand and sighed.  "We saw you at a mixer a few months after you had accomplished your task.  At the time, I was five or six months pregnant.  I told Kira the baby was yours, but it wasn't.  When I gave birth to the child and she saw that it wasn't yours, she lost it a little, and tried to kill both the infant and me.  After that, I didn't have much use for her.  You don't realize how much she hates you and everything you love.  Her hatred isn't completely competition derived, although, that was a big part of it in the beginning, I'm sure.  I know you're wondering how I found you.  Your former CIA director is in prison now and I asked a favor of the VP.  Dubois gave me your new name and told me where you live."

Donovan studied Elle's face for a very long time.  "You're referring to Grant in the present tense.  Don't you know she's dead?"  He held his breath, fearing that she was going to contradict him, praying that she would not.

"That's the reason I made this trip, Mr. Ma-Donovan.  Kira isn't dead.  She was in that bus accident, but she said herself that she suffered massive damage to her face.  The extra female body belonged to the driver's wife.  She hitched a ride with her husband, but clearly wasn't supposed to do so.  The family had the remains exhumed and compared dental charts.  It wasn't Kira on that bus.  I can assure you that she's alive, but I have no idea if she's in Chicago or D.C.  Since your girlfriend is here with you, she's probably somewhere close to you.  You need to watch your back at every step.  Start searching for her now before she causes more harm, more damage."

Grant?  Alive?  He had feared that very thing since he'd heard of the bus accident.  Both he and Larkin had been so sure they were safe.  They were so damn naïve.  He didn't want to believe it, not for one second, but why would this woman bother coming all this way to tell him?  Why would she bother after he'd fucked her for information so very long ago if it weren't the truth?  "Goddamn it," he said quietly, unable to come up with anything else that fit his feelings.  He noticed that Ellen was about to stand and make her exit.  She had come to say what she needed to say and now, she was ready to get out.  "Wait," he said, stopping her.  "I appreciate the information, I think it will help me find out who hurt the woman I love, if it wasn't Grant herself."  He stood to face her.  "Ellen, I never had the chance to apologize for what I did to you.  I didn't want to use you like that, but I was young and stupid.  I'm not trying to make excuses, but I'd always wanted to apologize and try to make it up to you."

Ellen sighed and crossed her arms again.  "You don't have to apologize.  It's something that I got over years ago.  It hurt like fuck for a year or so, but I'm fine now.  Unlike my cousin, I hold no grudges.  My life now is ten times better than it was then, unless you want to implicate me in what deeds Kira has done.  I work at the White House, so it shouldn't be hard to find me.  And as far as spilling the beans regarding your true identity, don't worry.  I don't care.  Good luck to you and your girlfriend."  Without another word, she left him.

Donovan was making his way back down to Larkin's room when his cell phone rang.  Knowing the hospital staff frowned upon cell phone use, he turned back around and went into the private waiting room again.  He flipped open the phone and gave his usual brusque greeting.  It was Cody and the news he had received began to pump his adrenaline even harder.  After he completed his phone call, he went back to Larkin's room, but found her completely passed out.  If Kira Grant was in the area, how in the hell could Larkin stay safe here?  Damn it.  His dilemma had gone from bad to horrible in the space of fifteen minutes.  Torn between staying and leaving, he leaned over and kissed her forehead.  After making a brief arrangement with the hospital staff, he left and headed back toward the nest.

"So, Boss, you see," Cody began, "The local police dragged a wrecked car out of a flooded drainage ditch.  It matches the description the witnesses were able to make out.  The front is bashed in right where it would have to be for the initial damage to your Lexus.  There wasn't any information inside to lead to whom the driver might be.  But we did get a report of a body found just outside town in a remote area.  It's a male, around age nineteen.  Have you seen your neighbor lady's brother recently?  I know we haven't."

Donovan gritted his teeth together in anger.  Fucking Kira Grant.  Somehow, some way, the bitch had cheated death.  She had gotten her face fixed and tried to ruin his life yet again.  However, he wasn't sure if she were Devere or Greene.  Yet, it didn't take a genius to figure it out.  Greene had done nothing to him or Larkin.  Devere had done everything imaginable.  "If the body is still at the morgue, I'll know.  I'm on my way there now.  Cody, I want either you or Monica to check in with the hospital to ensure that Larkin is safe.  If Grant finds her, she'll finish her.  Tell the staff to look out for a woman with short black hair and dark skin.  If anyone like that comes within twenty feet of Larkin's room, they are to get the police there immediately."

After issuing his orders to Cody and Monica, Donovan called around until he found the right morgue where the body had been taken.  It was a bit out of town, but he didn't care.  He secured a rental vehicle and was on his way.  Once he arrived at a small, rural community in the southern portion of Illinois, he went immediately to the local police.  There, he was told a young man had been found with several stab wounds to his neck, face, and chest.  Whoever the assailant was had tried to bury the body, but the person hadn't done the best of jobs.  Unfortunately, there hadn't been any witnesses.  The city police led Donovan to the local morgue.  _They weren't lying when they said the body was a mess_, he thought.  There were several wounds on his face, neck, and chest.  His ear had been clipped neatly off his head.  However, the condition of the body didn't hide his identity.  Donovan recognized the boy as Beau Devere.  _Jesus fucking Christ.  Kira Grant was right under my fucking nose for this long and I didn't even know._  Donovan didn't linger at the morgue for very long.  He went immediately to his rental, climbed in, and asked that Alex and Jake get into the Devere [Grant] apartment any way they could.  They had to find her before she found Larkin.

By the time Donovan made it back to Chicago, it was almost dark.  He immediately went to the hospital.  Much to his relief, nothing had happened and Larkin was fine.  She had just come out of her drugged sleep and she was drinking cup after cup of water from the pitcher near her.  She smiled up at Donovan.  "Where were you all day?"

"Selena, we have to talk."  Donovan moved to the chair at her bedside.  He took her hand and kissed it.  "Earlier today, I was visited by a ghost from my past.  She was a woman I knew a very long time ago in my CIA days.  She is Grant's cousin and she said that she has been in contact with her.  Grant isn't dead, she was never dead.  There was an extra person aboard the bus who shouldn't have been there.  Devere is Grant and she is responsible for the accident you had.  She actually probably thought she was running me off the road.  She was the one trying to ruin what we have."

She stared into his open, earnest face.  She wanted to scream that he was a liar, but she knew he wasn't.  The look in his eyes gave her that much information.  "Oh God, how the hell could this happen?  Frank, she's going to kill you, isn't she?  She's going to come after you and kill you.  She thought it was you that night, not me.  Oh dear God.  What the hell are we going to do now?"

"The first thing you're going to do is calm down," he said.  "After that, I'm sending you to a hotel with your parents so they can keep you safe.  Grant is after both of us, and right now, you are not at your best.  You're extremely vulnerable to her, and I'm sure she is aware of this.  We'll have to set up some type of diversion so she doesn't see where you're going.  I won't have her hurting you again.  This is between Grant and me."  

He had spoken his words bluntly, matter-of-factly.  In other words, he wasn't prepared to accept any arguments from her or anyone else.  She didn't know if she was just angry or pissed off.  "Doesn't it now involve me as well?  Regardless of who was in that damn car, she touched me, and dragged me into it.  I am just as entrenched in her game as you."

Donovan shook his head.  "Selena, you're lying there with bruised ribs, broken fingers, and whiplash.  You think you can get up and fight with me on this?  Look in the mirror; you can't do it.  If you stay here or at the apartment, she can easily find you.  She has done enough damage to you and I don't want to see any more done.  If you go with your parents, you'll be safe.  We've lost too much by her hands and I don't want to lose you to her.  I know she was your case, but she has stalked me my entire career, and I can't risk it, Selena, I can't lose another woman I love.  It could happen very easily."

"So I assume that after tomorrow, I'm going to be all locked up in a hotel room with my parents?"  She rolled her eyes.  "If you knew them, you'd realize that's torture all its own."  Donovan smiled a little.  He nearly opened his mouth, but she held up her hand.  "Wait a minute, Frank, don't say anything yet.  I know there's a chance I'll not see you again after tonight."  He started to open his mouth again.  "No.  Let me.  You're talking like I'm in grave danger, but you are, too.  I know you can't promise anything, but at least try your best to kick her ass once and for all.  If I have to see her face again, I think I might die."  Quietly, she hiked up her hospital bed.  She crooked her finger toward him and he sat on the edge of the bed near her.  With her good hand, she ran her fingers along his cheek, noting the scruffiness right away.  Poor guy hadn't taken care of himself in days.  He turned into her touch, reveling in the feel of her soft hand.  "I love you, I really and truly love you.  I just wish this was all over."

"I do, too, but I'm afraid it's just beginning," he said.  "I want to stay with you until you're released, and then we'll get you settled.  Eventually, Grant will call me out.  I know her well, I know the mindset and from what I've been told, her mind isn't her own."  He took her hand down from his face and held it into his.  

"I don't think it was _ever_ her own," she whispered.

Donovan watched as Larkin reached behind her to remove the cushiony neck brace.  "Selena?"

"It's okay.  The pain isn't that bad," she said.  "I want you to kiss me.  I don't want one of those pecks an elderly couple gives each other after fifty years of marriage.  I want a real one, a kiss that you give me when you pick me up at the airport.  As long as I don't move my neck, I'll be okay," she said with a smile.

He leaned toward her and she met him halfway.  He wanted to be gentle, to continue his mindfulness of her injuries, but as her lips parted against his, he lost a bit of that control.  It had been so long since he had _really_ kissed her, he had nearly forgotten what it felt and tasted like.  Her good hand came up and her fingers went into his hair, running through it, reveling in its soft, silky fullness.  His own hand came out, settling on the side of her neck, and he immediately wanted to draw it away, but she moaned a 'no' against his lips.  He kept his hand where it was and pressed forward.  She wanted more, she wanted so much more, but it simply wasn't possible.  He broke the kiss so very slowly, not completely giving up on it immediately.  When his lips finally released hers, he leaned his forehead against hers.  Her hand reached out and went up and down his arm in a slow caress.  Her hand eventually landed on his where their fingers entwined tightly.

"I truly thought I'd lost you," he whispered.  "I didn't think you would ever let me back in your life."

"I didn't think I would, either," she said with a smile.

He chuckled.  "Larkin, one of these days, I'm going to lose my patience with you."

"Hmm…I thought you said that a year ago?  Where are we now," she asked with a teasing smile.  She kissed him again, but this time gently.  "I know the hospital is going to frown highly upon this when they see you, but I don't care.  If you're staying with me tonight, I want you to climb into bed with me and hold me in your arms."

"I'll do anything for you, Selena," he told her.

She sighed and nodded her head.  She moved over to make room for Donovan's body.  He climbed into the small bed beside her and she immediately snuggled in as closely to him as she could get [bruised ribs and whiplash be damned].  "Don't let me go," she whispered, "Just don't let me go."

**____________________**

**To be continued…**             __


	14. Beating the Bitch

BEATING THE BITCH

Grant watched from her vantage point as Martel and his girlfriend left the hospital.  As soon as she brought her body to her feet, he assisted her to a snazzy looking car [_probably a rental, because that fucking shit surely messed up his nice little Lexus_] and helped her get inside.  Surrounding the couple was members of his team.  They stood watch, more than likely looking for her.  Oh well, they wouldn't find her until she was ready to be found.  When Martel and Larkin completely disappeared in the car, his team members moved away and walked off in another direction.  It was time for her to move and follow the fuckers to wherever they were headed.  She didn't think Martel would take his girl to his apartment.  It was too easy.  She wasn't yet sure he knew who she was, but she was certain that, by now, he had found out about the benzos.  A man like Martel would immediately have a drug test done.  It didn't matter.  She'd follow him and the putrid girlfriend to wherever they intended to stay.  After that, she'd take care of what she needed to.  _Who am I after again?  Is it Larkin or Martel?  Goddamn it_.  She wanted them both, but Martel especially.  What the hell was happening to her damn mind?  Grant pulled out behind Martel and followed at a distance so as not to arouse suspicion.  However, as wrapped up as he was in his woman, he probably wouldn't see or know anything.  Before he began to slow, he drove for several blocks, probably twenty or twenty-five.  There was an expanse of hotels for blocks on this street and Martel was sure to pick one of those.  She watched as his car swung around and into a parking garage.  She took note of the hotel and then made a U-turn a few blocks ahead.  Tonight would be a good time to play.  Once and for all, Martel would pay for everything he had done.

Donovan entered the hotel room, noting that for the moment, it was secure.  He glanced at Alex who had donned a blonde wig and foam neck brace right before they left the hospital.  "You stay in constant contact.  I'm sure that as soon as she finds us, she'll come right to us."  He wasn't aware that he wouldn't have a chance to leave Alex alone.

In the meantime, Cody, Monica, and Jake took Larkin [donning a brown wig] to another hotel where her parents and brother waited impatiently.  When Larkin entered the room, she immediately stripped out of the wig and crossed her arms across her chest.  She was slightly pissed off with Donovan.  She didn't think this diversion was necessary.  Along with her pissiness was worry.  She wanted nothing to happen to him and knew it was an incredible possibility.  _He's not a helpless infant, Jane.  He's a goddamn federal agent who can take care of himself.  Jesus, how long has he been in this business anyway?_  However, she loved him so much that the thought of losing him was unfathomable.  _God.  You are so sick, Jane.  _After thanking Cody, Monica, and Jake profusely for their help, Larkin felt like doing nothing more than brooding and watching the clock.  The other agents would leave as soon as they heard from Donovan.  Tonight, someone was going down, either Grant or Donovan.  Of course, Larkin was betting on and hoping for Donovan to come out as the victor.  Her parents and brother, ever protective, created a shield around her; she found it annoying and completely unnecessary.  Of course, the first thing they did was put her to bed as if she were a five-year-old child.

At another hotel across town, after getting settled in, Alex took off the blonde wig and neck brace she had worn.  She immediately noticed how tense and upset Donovan was.  He kept checking and rechecking the perimeters.  He had stuffed his hand deeply into his pocket as if feeling for his cell phone.  He ached to call Larkin to ensure her safety, but the moment he dialed the number, Grant had the potential to pick it up and listen in.  If anything else happened to his Selena, he'd lose his mind.  The room Donovan had secured was a relatively large suite and had a separate area for a living room and a closed off bedroom.  He glanced at Alex, excused himself, and then entered the room.  He needed some serious alone time.  Actually, he needed serious 'calming down' time.  If he laid eyes on Kira Grant/Bailey Devere or whoever the hell else she was that day [he had no way of knowing that Grant had had the same thoughts racing through her head regarding his identity many, many times], nothing or no one would hold him back.  Actually, he had always tried to isolate himself at least ten minutes before taking on some huge task.  It was a trick he had learned years ago in training.  It kept a man sane, focused, and grounded.  He also did not want to react as he did when he saw Taryn down on the floor bleeding out, already dead.  Frank Donovan wasn't a religious man, he didn't pray much [if at all], but right at that moment, he literally begged that Larkin's life would be spared even if his weren't.  He begged for the strength not to do anything rash once the horrid bitch showed her face [and she was sure to show it at any time].  What he had with Larkin now was the best thing he had ever had in his life, and he certainly didn't want to screw it up again.  _Please, Selena, take care of yourself; don't get involved.  Stay where you're safe and out of her reach._

Just after Donovan and Alex arrived at the hotel, he contacted the other members of the team and had them station themselves near.  At that point, he had discussed with Monica what else he could expect from Grant, outside what he already knew.  What she had told him chilled him to the bone, but it was nothing new.  _Well, you knew she was unstable before and it's obvious her mindset is worsening.  You've beaten her at her games time and time again.  Right now, she's desperate enough to do anything to take you out, including murdering those who are innocent.  Whatever happened to her during that bus accident shattered anything resembling sanity.  The least little slight from anyone has the capacity to set her off.  In other words, Boss, she's a walking time bomb._  Donovan reached into his pocket again and dragged out his cell phone.  He stared down at it, aching to call Larkin.  The temptation was too great, too enormous.  He nearly took the phone to give to Alex for safekeeping.  After taking a deep breath, he collected himself and went back out to join Alex.  He noticed that she was checking in with the other team members.

When Alex stopped speaking, she glanced at Donovan who was more than distracted.  He had always been tight-lipped about his private life, and it was no exception where Larkin was concerned, even though they all knew what was going on.  Taking an incredible chance and cringing a little while she did, she said, "She's going to be all right, Donovan.  She's safe."  She knew he wanted to call Larkin, to speak to her, but he couldn't.  "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

He didn't expect to hear her speak and was more surprised by her words.  He focused his eyes on her face.  His first impulse was to say nothing and move on.  However, his team had surprised him more than once since this ordeal had begun.  "Thank you, Alex, I appreciate it."    

Larkin didn't appreciate how her parents shuttled her off into a room and demanded that she get into bed.  They had taken a tone with her that they hadn't taken since she was a small child.  At an early age, she had shown them she could take care of herself.  Hell, even Kraig could attest to that.  How many times in his childhood years had she beaten the crap out of him or any of her other brothers?  They underestimated her so much.  Of course, her brothers were built like trees and all of them were over six foot something.  She was 'delicate' and weakened from her car accident.  Yet, they also had no idea what was truly going on.  Larkin had eluded that it had something to do with a case she worked on shortly after she met Donovan.  She told them nothing else.  She said very little about the wreck and hadn't once hinted about the miscarriage.  However, her parents weren't idiots.  They knew something more was going on than what Larkin had admitted.  Why else would they decoy her with someone else?  Larkin groaned a little, immediately sick of the aggravating neck thing.  She didn't care how much her fucking neck hurt, it was coming off.  She sat up and impatiently yanked the foamy thing off.  Of course, her neck was still stiff, but she didn't care.  It relieved her greatly to be able to feel her damn neck again.  She scrounged up as many pillows as she could find and propped herself up on the bed.  Donovan had failed to disclose where he and Alex would station themselves.  _Of course he did, you idiot.  Do you think he'd tell you?  If you knew, where would you be right now?_  Goddamn.  How could she find out where the hell they were without arising suspicion?  She didn't want Donovan facing this whore alone.  She knew he was capable of doing his job and he did it well.  She simply wanted to be there to see Grant go down again, to go down for good.  _She didn't go down for good the last time, now did she?_

There was a phone in the room.  Larkin stared at it for a very long time.  Her hand ached to reach out and grab the damn receiver.  She knew Donovan's cell number and wanted to hear his voice.  Yet, if she dialed out, there was a huge chance that Grant would find her.  At that moment, she didn't give a shit.  Let Grant find her.  She would send her parents and brother away, then she would do whatever the hell she wanted, face whatever hell decided to visit her.  Larkin simply wanted it over, wanted it all to go away.  Her hand reached out, actually touched the receiver, when the door came open.  Quickly, she jerked her hand back as if she had been caught doing something naughty.  Inwardly, she groaned.  It was her mother.  She had no idea why her mother wanted to speak to her now.  _Aren't I supposed to be resting?  How can I rest with people coming into the room?  I don't care what you say or do, Mother, I am **not **giving you a lowdown on my relationship with Frank._  She watched as Jeanette Larkin approached her bedside and sat down.  It was from her mother that Larkin had inherited her build.  Everything else came from Dad.  

Jeanette's first question:  "Why did you take off the neck brace?  I'm sure you're in a massive amount of pain."

_The only pain I'm truly in is wondering if I'll ever see Frank alive again_.  "My neck is fine, Mother.  That _thing_ bothers me more than the pain.  As long as I don't move, I'll be fine."  Of course, she was lying to her mother, but she didn't care.  She had no desire to listen.  She wasn't focused on herself, her only worry, her only concern was Donovan.  She longed to be at the same hotel, to be near him.  Damn it.  She hated this shit.  Hated waiting.

Jeanette reached out and caressed Larkin's hair.  It was something her daughter didn't like at all, but she couldn't help it.  "Come on, Selena Jane.  I know you're in pain, but you're a stubborn, stubborn girl.  This man, this Frank Donovan, something else is going on besides some simple little mission, isn't it?"  Larkin said nothing, but Jeanette immediately noticed how her facial expression changed.  "Selena?  Do you want to talk about it?"

Larkin shook her head.  "No, Mother, I really don't and I really don't think I should, anyway.  I'm just scared shitless.  But then, that's what happens in this field, I'm used to it.  I do it…sort of.  It's just that we've been together almost a year and I can't…"  She stopped talking.  "Never mind, Mother.  I'll be fine.  I just need to rest a little.  Is that okay?"

She smiled.  "In other words, get lost Mom."  She kissed Larkin's forehead.  "Rest."

*  *  *

Grant pulled her car up into the dark garage of the _Il Hotel di Esca_ and found a vacant slot.  Since Martel's Lexus had been totaled, she had no idea what he was driving now.  She couldn't remember what kind of car she had seen him in earlier.  Her memory was horrid.  However, she didn't think it would be difficult to find the hotel room.  If the desk clerk didn't tell her, she'd kill him or her.  It was as simple as that.  As late as it was, there wouldn't be very many people lingering about.  Checking her weapon and ammo, she left the car and strolled casually over to the outside door that would lead her either to the stairs or the elevator.  She had no desire to climb stairs tonight; her night would be much too active for that.  Sighing, she buttoned her coat around her gun so that no one would see it.  She didn't intend to get arrested tonight.  

"Boss," Cody said, "I think the eagle has landed.  She's in the building."

"Thank you, Cody.  Have the front desk to start paging Selena Larkin.  If Grant is smart, she'll jump right on that," Donovan said.

"Donovan, do you think she's going to fall for that," Cody asked.

"At this stage in her psychosis, she probably will," Donovan said.

Kira Grant entered the plush hotel lobby and glanced around.  _Martel certainly knows where to take his lovers, doesn't he?  How the hell much money does he make, anyway?  _Grant heard the PA system kick in and at first, didn't pay attention to it.  However, when she heard the name 'Selena Larkin,' she stopped.  Someone was paging Larkin?  Now, who could it be?  Martel?  An idea suddenly ballooned in her mind as nicely as an angioplasty in the heart of an old fart.  Putting on her innocent, open face, she approached the front desk.

"Good evening," she said, "I was the one paging Selena Larkin.  The girl is running so late."  She giggled.  "Just tell me her room number and I'll rouse her."

The clerk, who had been informed of what would unfold earlier, happily gave the woman the room number [_This is a woman you do not want to cross hairs with, _Frank Donovan barked.  _When she asks the room number, give it to her.  I know your policy, but we must have this woman in our custody by tonight_.  How could he argue with that?].

"Okay, Boss," Cody said through the teeny speaker stuck at Donovan's ear, "She's heading your way."

In another hotel room across town, Larkin was pacing back and forth.  She had had to give in and put on the neck brace.  It had been hours since she last heard from Donovan and she was beginning to get worried.  There was nowhere for her to go.  Her bulldog bodyguards refused to let her out of their sight.  She didn't know where Donovan was, she could actually _call_ him, but she couldn't move.  It was almost over and Larkin longed for a happy ending.  Would she get one?

Both Donovan and Alex were tensed and waiting.  They had no idea how Grant would make her entrance.  Would she be so bold as to knock on the door?  Why the hell not?  After all, she didn't know they were aware of her identity, did she?  _It's too easy.  It's all too easy_.  In the back of his mind, he was thinking about Larkin, hoping that her parents kept a close eye on her.  He wouldn't doubt that she'd come right to him.  The two federal agents were so wound up that what happened in the next few seconds would shake them up and haunt them for the rest of their lives.  When it happened, it happened fast.  Bullets from a high-powered handgun blew through the door, heading in a straight trajectory.  Alex and Donovan had just enough time to dive behind the furniture scattered about.  Dozens of people began streaming out into the hallways, wondering what had caused the ruckus.

"Get the police out here immediately," Donovan demanded.  "Evacuate the damn hotel.  She's firing at random."

When the door was sufficiently damaged, Grant was able to make easy access to the room.  She saw no one at first.  She heard nothing.  Behind the couch, Donovan nodded toward Alex, indicating where she needed to move to get a clear shot at Grant.  However, before she move one step, another rain of bullets peppered out and around, making small 'poof' noises as they embedded into the overstuffed couch.  As soon as the gunfire relented, Alex rose up and squeezed off her own round of shots.  Grant dodged them and made her own dive behind a piece of furniture.  Snarling, she realized that Martel had tricked her.  _Goddamn tricky ass bastard.  I hate his fucking ass.  I hate him_.  Firing at will, Grant crawled along the floor, taking a bullet in her hip.  She barely felt it at all.  She continued to crawl until she had made it out in the hallway.  Blindly, she raced through the crowds, firing when she jolly well felt like it.  The bullet in her hip didn't faze her.

Without a word to Alex or his team, Donovan ripped out his earpiece and took off after Grant.  She would not get away from him this time.  It wasn't difficult gauging her path.  Droplets of blood were scattered on the rug as if they were making a gory trail.  As much as Grant before him, he didn't pay any attention to the crowds, the screams, the sirens, or his team.  He was focused on one thing and one thing only:  finishing Kira Grant once and for all.  Donovan could make out the back of Grant's head several feet before him.  She couldn't run very fast due to her injury and he was very close to securing her.  His mistake was his overwhelming anger, aggression, and loud mouth.  He literally roared out for her to stop.  Grant stopped, all right, but only to fire a shot.  Donovan barely dodged it, feeling it cutting into his shirt, biting at the flesh of his arm.  He would have a graze wound for sure.  However, he didn't care.  Nothing mattered to him, nothing mattered other than putting a stop to the evil bitch and punishing her for everything she had done.  He saw nothing but Larkin's face as she was being hauled from the wreckage, the condition of her body when he first saw her, and the pain in her eyes when he told her about the miscarriage.  Donovan chased after her until she ran into the parking garage.  His rental was parked close, on the next level, and he gave up his pursuit just long enough to get to the car.  It took approximately three minutes for Donovan to find Grant's car.  It was the first vehicle he noticed weaving erratically around in traffic.  It was beyond him to care that he had walked away from the hotel room with only one tie to communication with the team, his cell phone.  When it began to ring, he ignored it.  He needed no distractions.

Grant began to drive away from the city.  She believed that if she got out of town, she'd lose Martel.  She had no idea how long she'd been driving, but it seemed like hours.  Why could the son-of-a-bitch never pay for his sins?  She never understood.  He walked away from everything smelling like a rose.  Grant saw him pursuing her and she pressed the accelerator to the floor.  The car was a piece of shit, but she hoped it would hold together just long enough to outrun him.  However, she doubted it.  Martel was a lot like her; he didn't give up easily.  She had no idea how fast she was driving, but if she had to guess, she was nearing a hundred.  The car's engine had begun to whine and work overtime.  If she didn't stop soon, the car wouldn't make it much longer.  However, fate stepped in and made the decision for her.  Grant lost control of the car and the wheel flew out of her hands.  _Goddamn it, goddamn it, not another fucking wreck_.

Donovan watched as Grant's car spun three or four doughnut turns before it tipped over on its side.  Just before he arrived at the scene of the accident, it rolled over once and righted itself perfectly.  Ironically, it was exactly how Larkin's wreck had happened, with the exception of the amount of damage.  Grant's car didn't look like a crumpled piece of paper.  He screeched his to a sudden, jarring halt and cautiously exited the vehicle with his weapon raised.  He could smell the distinct odor of gasoline.  There probably wouldn't be much time to act.  Slowly, Donovan approached the wreckage without coming out of his defensive stance.  He could see Grant slumped over the wheel.  He didn't trust the bitch, regardless of her appearance.  When she rose up, Donovan noticed that she had a bleeding injury on her forehead.  It had sent small streams of blood down each side of her face.  It was gruesome, perhaps grotesque, but it also gave him a feeling of sheer elation.  _The way I feel is wrong.  This is all wrong._

"I'm helpless, you fucking bastard," she snarled, "I can't move."

Not caring if she were telling the truth, he drew nearer.  The smell of gasoline grew stronger, sickening him.  Almost up against the drivers side now, he took his Glock and shoved it smack up against her bloody forehead.  He was a breath away from pulling the trigger, sending a spark, and killing them both.  At that moment, he could have died without a thought, even the promise of a life with his Selena didn't shake him.

"Go ahead," she snarled again, "Do it.  Kill me now.  Let me go.  Do it, you prick," she shouted.

He stood back, withdrawing his weapon.  By then, the smell of gasoline was stifling.  If the car didn't go up soon, he'd be surprised.  He glared down into her bloody face.  "I'll let you burn," he said coldly and then turned away.

Donovan had gotten about a foot away from the car when he heard a call, "Yeah, Martel.  I'll burn," Grant screamed, "I'll burn.  You'll be just like me, you know?  Whether you like it or not, we're cut from the same cloth, Chase.  You're a cold ass killer, just like me."  She laughed.  "Just like me!"

He stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes tightly.  "I'll never be like you," he yelled her way.  "_Never_."  However, he knew right then that he had intended to leave her to die, but ultimately, he couldn't do it.  If he did, he _would_ be her.  Turning back toward the wreckage, he slowly approached the car.  If she had a weapon and shot at him, so be it.  He didn't care.  He only hoped that whatever happened wouldn't end up hurting Larkin.  None to gently, he reached into the car, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out.  He dragged her toward the safety of his rental and shoved her body against the car.  Taking extreme, dark joy in roughing her up, he dug in his pocket for his cell phone.  One handed, he touched a button.  After a moment, he barked, "I have the bitch, send reinforcement immediately."

_I am her.  She's right._

**____________________**

To be continued… 

      


	15. Retreat

RETREAT

Right around six in the morning, Larkin's bodyguards finally persuaded her to go to bed.  She hadn't wanted to go until she heard from Donovan.  When two hours passed without word, she became nervous.  When four passed, she was flat out scared.  However, she couldn't deny she was tired.  She couldn't fight sleep.  It took her over.  She had fallen onto the bed in an exhausted heap and sometime or another, someone had covered her with a throw blanket.  She had been asleep for an hour and a half when she half-heard another person entering the room.  Figuring it was her mother again, she didn't try to wake up.  Since she had decided to sleep, she was damn well going to do it.  When the person crawled in beside her, she realized she was either dreaming or Donovan had come to her.  

When she opened her eyes, she smiled and immediately tried to kiss him, but he pulled back and away from her.  He remained on the bed, but moved to lean over her.  Confused, the smile left her face and she gazed at him with some concern.  It was then that she realized he smelled slightly of gasoline and had blood staining his arm.  His face was strained and his eyes haunted.  Had she gotten away?  She reached out to him, but he wouldn't allow her to touch his face.  He took her hands in his and held them down.  

"Frank, what…"

Donovan shook his head and placed his finger over her lips.  After a few seconds, he removed his finger.  "I don't know how to explain this," he began, "but I need a little time to process what happened.  Don't worry about Grant; we have her.  Tonight, I forgot who I was for a while.  I forgot you.  I forgot everything."  His hand reached out to stroke her cheek.  It was so amazingly soft.  The images of what he had nearly done haunted him.  "Selena, I'm afraid that one day, I'll turn out just like Grant.  All it would take is just the right push."  

She wanted to ask what the hell happened to him out in the field, but she never let the question leave her lips.  He wouldn't tell her.  There were certain things he needed to keep buried deeply within his mind and heart; this was one of them.  She wouldn't push.  "No Frank, you could never become like her.  It's not in you."

_It is.  It is inside me.  It came out tonight and this wasn't the first time_.  He could say nothing else to her, because she'd simply argue against him.  She would argue because she loved him.  He knew it plainly, could read it in her actions, words, and especially in her eyes.  "I love you."  Without giving her a chance to respond, he leaned down and captured her lips in a breathless, passionate kiss.  When he broke it, he drew her into his embrace.  He knew he must look and smell like shit, but he had to touch her, to be with her.  Later, he would give her the details.  It could wait.  Loving her could not.

*  *  *

Late Winter, 2004 

It took several weeks to get the case of Kira Grant settled and put away.  Both Donovan and Larkin were present when she was tried and convicted for her crimes.  This time, the court system would make no mistakes.  They not only cuffed her, but shackled her as well.  Grant could barely walk.  Another person had shown up in the courtroom.  She had sat toward the back away from the crowd.  A few people here and there recognized her, but she was mostly a stranger.  Not to Donovan.  Ellen Landry-Cole had witnessed the entire trial, and when Grant saw her, she became furious enough to kill.  Larkin saw the woman and wondered what her tie to Grant was, but Donovan did not elaborate.  It was one of many stories he would tell her soon enough.  However, right now, they needed to keep their focus on putting Kira Grant away for good.  This time.  This time, Kira Grant was gone.  After it was settled, it was time to get away.  Larkin hadn't yet started her job and the DOJ wasn't complaining much, so she didn't argue when Donovan asked her to go to his mountain retreat.  Actually, they both needed to take a breather.  The stress and heartbreak had wreaked havoc on them both.  

Larkin couldn't help but smile wryly as she entered the cabin.  It was colder than all get out, just like it was when he had first brought her here.  Of course, it was worse this time.  They entered the front room and dropped their luggage.  Donovan immediately moved toward the thermostat to turn on the heat, but Larkin stopped him.  Smiling up at him, she said, "Build us a fire."

He approached her and took her into his embrace.  "Will you slip into your big fuzzy robe," he asked with a lifted eyebrow.  

"Maybe," she said with a silky little smile.  "Why don't you look for some kindling and wood?  Perhaps by the time you come back, you'll have your answer."

"I'm game."

By the time Donovan returned, Larkin wasn't exactly in her fuzzy robe.  Instead, she had taken out a blanket she had managed to pack somewhere and wrapped it around her body.  The sight of her that way immediately brought on a sweet, sweet ache in his groin.  It wasn't just a lust thing, exactly, but since he had come to her that early morning, he couldn't get enough of her.  It seemed as if he were afraid she'd disappear at any second.  For a moment, he turned his attention away from her and began working at getting the fire started.  It took about fifteen minutes to get it roaring and he glanced over at her.  Unmoving before the fireplace, her eyes were fixed on the flames.  He took this opportunity to gaze at her without her knowledge.  She seemed hypnotized and drawn in.  In November, he hadn't thought they would have come this far.  He had messed up so very badly and had hurt her deeply.  Yet, she never allowed him to take all the blame.  She wanted some of it to rest on her shoulders.  They didn't talk about it much, because it wasn't necessary.  The only thing she didn't want to talk about was the miscarriage.  She couldn't deal with the thought of losing a child she had never known about.  In fact, not knowing and losing the baby was harder for her to deal with.  She felt his eyes on her and she glanced at him.  His gaze never faltered.  

"You know," she began, "we were here in a similar setting the night you said you loved me."

He nodded and smiled.  His hand stroked her cheek ever so gently.  "I think I remember."

"You _think_, huh?"  She drew away from him a little and opened the blanket spread about her body.  She had nothing on underneath.  "Would you like to share?"

"Not the way you're thinking," he said.  "Why don't we spread it out on the floor so I can make love to you?"

"Why don't you get undressed first?"

He bit his lip.  "I thought you'd never ask."

Larkin drew the blanket back around her and watched as Donovan slowly removed his clothing bit-by-bit, piece-by-piece.  When he was unclothed before her, she leaned toward him and kissed his lips gently.  She wanted to pull away to tease a bit, but he held onto her, deepening the kiss.  His tongue touched hers, caressed it, and swirled about it.  During the kiss, her hand slid down his chest, along his side, and then moved around to his lower abdomen.  He broke the kiss long enough to bring in a sharp, hissing breath as her hand danced delicately about his taut flesh, her fingers moving teasingly though the coarse hair that started a few inches below his navel.  He wanted to protest, but he wasn't an idiot.  Her hand found him and began a slow caress.  He couldn't concentrate on anything as complex as a kiss.  Instead, he lay with his forehead against hers and allowed her to caress him until his pulse boomed at his temples.  He took hold of her wrist, clearly indicating that for now, he had had enough.  He drew the blanket away from her body and pushed her down onto her back.  Leaning over her, his hands began moving over her body, touching her, caressing her, and loving her.  He was reminded of the first night he'd made love to her after her injuries had healed.  He had almost been afraid to touch her for fear of hurting her.  Larkin nearly had had to initiate the whole thing.  _You're such a passionate lover, Frank, _she had said, _but you're acting as if I'll dry up and blow away with the slightest touch.  _He smiled a little at the memory and when she had begun to ask him what he was smiling about, he cut her question off with a deep kiss.  During the kiss, they switched positions and Larkin was atop him, straddling his waist.  She ran her hands along his face, down his chest, and back up again.  His hands slid around her waist and down the base of her spine.  When she felt them cupping her buttocks, she sighed and pressed her lower body down onto his hardness.  She was warm and moist against him.  He shifted his body ever so slightly, bringing it into a near sitting position.  Donovan tangled his hand into the back of her hair and brought her lips up to his again.  Her arms and legs went around him and her hands found the taut muscles of his back.

"Come inside me," she whispered against his lips.  "Please, Frank, come inside me now."

He wasn't about to deny her request.  She sighed as she felt him sliding into her deliciously slow and easy.  They moved together, almost as one entity.  She met her release first, and he soon after.  Her body collapsed against his, and they kept their arms wrapped tightly around each other.  She clung to him, her cheek resting against his damp shoulder.  He brought one of his arms up and ran his hand through her hair.  At first, he couldn't say anything.  _As much as the first time you said you loved her, you're trying to wimp out again, aren't you?_  Once again, he was afraid he was pushing too hard, but if he didn't speak now, he might lose his nerve.  _As if you haven't lost it already_.

"I love you, Selena," he whispered.

Before he said another word, he felt her lips on his shoulder.  "I love you, too."

"Selena, will you…will you marry me?"

Larkin drew away a little and searched his face.  "What did you say," she asked in a stunned kind of shock.

He smiled a little.  "I asked you to marry me.  Will you?"

She kissed his lips very gently.  "Yes, I'll marry you."

His lips found hers again and he kissed her deeply.  When he broke it, he gazed at her.  "I wasn't so sure you'd accept."  She wanted to speak, but before she could, he completed his thought, "But in case you did, I brought a ring.  I'll give it to you later, because right now, I don't want to move."

"Right now," she said smiling, "I don't want you to move."

*  *  *

****

Three Months Later 

It was the heat that awakened her.  Before they had gone to bed the night before, they'd turned off the air conditioning and opened the windows to let the breeze flow into the room.  This morning, it was hotter than hell, but he didn't seem to notice.  She climbed out of bed and made quick work of the windows.  She went to the thermostat and kicked the air down a couple of notches.  She glanced down at him and shook her head.  She had no idea how the hell he could sleep in this kind of heat.  _Duh, Jane.  He's slept in places a lot hotter than this_.  However, she did notice he had kicked most of the covers off the bed, giving a full view of his magnificent body.  _There are some advantages to the heat, oh yes indeed_.  She didn't go back to bed immediately.  Instead, she glanced out the window at the growing, glowing ball of light that would soon make it even hotter outside.  Before she turned around, she felt the solid wall of his body up against hers.  She hadn't heard him getting up.  _Goddamn it, how does he **do **that?  _

"Can I persuade you to come back to bed," he asked while nuzzling the side of her throat.

She smiled.  "Hmm…maybe.  Wait until it cools off a little.  I'm all hot and sticky."

"I don't mind," he said, sliding his arms around her waist.  "Come back to bed."

"God, Frank, you never let me rest," she said, but she didn't sound the least bit annoyed.  In fact, she was ready for him to drag her back to bed and spend another hour or two making love to her.

"We're not supposed to rest, Selena.  This is our honeymoon."

"Oh yeah," she said as if she had forgotten.  "It is.  Okay then, take me back to bed."

"My pleasure."

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	16. Unpleasant Surprises

EPILOGUE--UNPLEASANT SURPRISES

At midnight, a man and a woman casually strolled down the busy city street toward their residence just a few short blocks away.  They had attended a show at a nearby theatre and it had let out about five minutes ago.  There weren't very many people milling about at this time of night, but they recognized a few couples walking arm-in-arm who had attended the same show.  They tried to see a show at least two or three times a month, always walking to and from the theatre, never giving a thought as to what they were doing, what time it was, or that they might be in some sort of danger.  It wasn't such a smart idea to be walking around in such a large city at this time of night, but they were basically asking to be attacked.  However, they were convinced that nothing could touch them; they were young and thought they were invincible.  Thousands of stars in the sky seemingly shined just for them as the heat of an early summer night embrace them intimately.  In a few months, the heat would be stifling, but right now, it was completely tolerable.  

Every few seconds, one or the other of them would stop and examine something insignificant hanging behind a glass window.  _We must be insane window shopping at midnight in this city_, she thought.  _Oh well.  I don't care.  I want to spend a quiet night with this man I love so very much.  I don't see him a whole hell of a lot as it is._  In a few days, he would leave her again, and she always hated seeing him go.  He never seemed to stay long enough to suit her.  The brief respites were driving her insane and when he was home with her, she literally couldn't keep her hands off him.  

After gazing at several pieces of overpriced furniture, she tugged him forward.  She wanted to get home as soon as possible.  Just gazing at him by the starlight was turning her on tremendously.  However, he had other ideas.  He took hold of her hand and drew her back.  Letting out a mock irritated sigh, she stopped and came back around to look at what had caught his interest.    

"I didn't think they still made those.  Did you," he commented, chuckling.

"Nope, but I'd like to touch it, just to make sure it's real.  It seems to be from another time, you know?"

He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind.  "Why in the hell would you want to touch a washboard?  You are one sick woman," he said with a warm smile.

"If you bought it for me, we could…ah…experiment with it."

"You can't be serious," he said, laughing.

"You never know about me."  She slapped him playfully on the arm.  "Look, you goof.  It's a music store.  People actually use these to make music.  Incredible.  Now, if you'll come along, we can make our own music."  

More eager than ever to get home, she grasped his hand tightly to move him along.  However, as much as he, she saw something that caught _her_ eye.  It was an old-fashioned baby crib.  Sighing, she said, "Oh my God.  That is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

His hold on her hand suddenly tightened.  "Are you trying to tell me something," he asked suddenly, suspiciously.

She rolled her eyes.  "No, I'm not pregnant.  I just think it's beautiful.  We could buy it and use it later," she said, smiling up at him.

It was his turn to smile.  "Maybe."

They walked on and could see the lights leading up to their residence.  They were eager to get inside.  Not only was it hotter than hell outside, but they were also hotter than hell for each other.  It wasn't quite practical to make love out on the city street, not unless they wanted to get arrested.  Of course, they weren't above a little exhibitionism here and there, but they weren't quite in the mood for that, either.  They had _some _patience and could make it inside.  Or at least they _hoped_ they could.

When she turned to dig her keys out of her pocket to unlock the door, she could feel his hands on her shoulders, sliding down her back, and settling on her buttocks.  God.  He couldn't wait to be alone with her.  She turned toward him with an admonishing smile that seemed to say; _if you'll stop touching my ass for five minutes, maybe I'll get the door unlocked and we can get to it_.  He smiled wickedly and backed up, raising his hands as if he were surrendering to her.  _That's a good boy.  _She finally dug her keys out of her skintight blue jeans [she wore them to drive him nuts, he was certain of this].  Before she had even had the key inserted into the lock, she heard a soft grunt followed by a hard _thud _of a body.  When she turned to see if it was her love who fell, someone very lithe and fast grabbed her from behind.  She felt one hand digging into her shoulder as the assailant's arm went around her throat.  She then felt the unmistakable biting sting of a knife at her throat.  A viper like mouth came down to her ear and spat the most venomous of all poisons in the world.

"I told you I would get you."

Glancing down at her love one last time, she was certain that those seven words would be the last she would hear again.

**____________________**

**FINIS [or is it?]**

**A/N:  Many thanks to Serena for suggesting this lil plot to me.  A basic idea simply took off like a morning glory vine.  I owe ya.  Also, thanks to Shelley, Serena, and Deana for reading my ramblings and offering suggestions.  You guys are the best!  Finally, I appreciate each and every person who has left feedback, be it negative, positive, or neutral.  I'd list everyone's name here, but I sorta feel like a person who has won an Oscar and can't shut up after the music has begun to play!**   


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